Rescuing the Bad Boy (Second Chance #2)(92)

Placing a kiss on the center of his mouth, she whispered, “Couch.”

Same as seven years ago, he smiled up at her.

“That’s what I wanted to hear.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX




Sofie’s hair was up, worn in a loose arrangement of curls. Donovan put her on her feet and, resisting reaching for her body, put his hands in her hair instead.

He felt beneath her curls until he found a bobby pin. He pulled the tiny piece of metal free, careful not to take her hair with it. One loose curl spilled out. She turned green, green eyes up to his, and the power of her gaze zapped his chest like a bolt of lightning. He freed another. And another, repeating the process and dropping pins to the hardwood floor in a series of muted clatters.

Once her hair was down, he combed his fingers through the strands, ruffling the curls around her face.

“Gorgeous,” he murmured. So gorgeous it hurt.

Her fingers went to his belt. His hand covered hers. Shaking his head, he said, “Not yet. I have more to do.”

She obeyed and dropped her hand. He cupped her jaw, tilted her chin, and kissed her. Just a brush of his lips against hers while spearing his hands up through the hair he’d taken his time to undo. The back of her dress scooped down to her waist in a low V, and he ran his hands down her spine, and back up, savoring the shiver flitting through her body as he did.

His hands trembled the slightest bit. Had he ever trembled when he touched a woman? No. Never. And he’d touched the woman gazing up at him too many times to count since he’d returned to Evergreen Cove.

But somehow this was different. All of it was different. This was her do-over. And he was going to do her over and over, he thought with a wicked grin.

Leaving her briefly, he lifted a glass of ice he’d brought in earlier and sucked an ice cube into his mouth.

She watched him approach, pulling her bottom lip under her teeth.

Beautiful.

He tipped her chin and kissed her neck, raking the ice along her thundering pulse and down to the hollow of her throat. His fingers went to the zipper low on her back where he drew it open slowly, peeling the dress from her shoulders just as slowly.

By the time he dragged the ice over Sofie’s collarbone, she was writhing, head back, her fingers wrenching into his hair.

He bared her breasts, thumbing her skin as he stroked his tongue between them. When the ice melted, he abandoned her body, but only to get another piece.





Sofie was dissolving.

Like the ice on Donovan’s tongue currently running over her pebbled nipple. She sprawled on the red velvet sofa, legs open to accommodate him kneeling before her. Her fingers tightened into his hair as she pulled and pushed and whimpered.

After who knew how many torturous minutes passed, he tracked his tongue between the valley of her breasts and up to her neck where his cold tongue laved her flesh. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder and several along the length of her neck, leisurely working his way up to her ear.

Gone was the Donovan who nipped and bit, who soothed the sting with more kisses. This Donovan was achingly gentle, his touch featherlight.

And fully clothed, more was the pity. Since he’d pushed her dress from her hips and sat her down onto the sofa, she only wore the lace panties she’d chosen with him in mind.

The scalloped edges were high cut, covering her bottom but completely transparent. She’d pulled them on earlier today, guessing she’d be wearing them for about five seconds after he laid eyes on them. But to her continued surprise and delight, he hadn’t rushed to strip her bare.

When he promised to give her everything she wanted, he wasn’t lying. This was everything she wanted. His attention. This drugging, slow pace.

Against the back of the sofa, she sagged.

“So far so good?” His head came up, his lips brushing hers.

“I think you know the answer to that question.” She lifted an eyebrow. “You know you don’t have to—”

His finger covered her lips, and she sucked his finger into her mouth, watching his eyes go hot and hungry. Through parted lips, he sucked in a ragged breath.

There. She had him. And soon, she would have him in her mouth or inside her. She increased the suction, thinking she’d won the battle of impatience, when he lifted her hips with his free hand.

He pulled his finger from her mouth, slipped past the barrier of her lace panties, and slicked between her folds. The breath she dragged in was broken, the emitting sound a full-on moan begging for more.

While his tongue encircled her breast, his fingers danced along her center. Then he slid one finger inside her, followed by another, and let loose her nipple with a suctioning pop.

He raised his chin and licked his lips, and damn if her hips didn’t lift on their own, driving his fingers deeper.

“Since this is your first time making love to me”—those lips tipped into a naughty smile—“I’m going to make sure you come first.” Mouth on hers, he gave her a long wet kiss that had her reaching for his shoulders and pulling him closer. “And come hard.”

Her panties disappeared, swept down her legs and tossed over his shoulder. His fingers returned and he put his tongue against her clitoris, applied pressure, and lapped her until she was squirming.

He wasn’t kidding. She came.

And she came hard.