A Little Bit Sinful(34)

He leaned even closer and she felt his warm breath on her neck. She closed her eyes just as he took her earlobe in his mouth and suckled it.

Desire coiled so quickly through her body, she feared she would melt into the plush rug beneath her feet. She turned her head ever so slightly and he grabbed her fiercely and pressed his lips to hers. His body molded against hers pressing her already sensitive breasts to his chest.

Kissing in nothing more than her night clothes was a different experience than doing so while fully clothed. At the moment she had no buffer between her breasts and his body other than the sheer fabric of her dressing gown and nightrail. As he kissed her, he pressed against her and with each slight movement, the fabric brushed against her aching nipples until she thought she’d go mad from it.

He pushed her back onto her bed and fell over her, all the while trailing searing kisses over her neck, collarbone and ears.

Oh, how she wanted him. Wanted whatever pleasure he could give her. She knew it was wrong. She knew it was improper, immoral even. But she also knew it was completely irresistible.

His lips met hers and his tongue tantalized her. Teasing, licking, stroking until she thought she would go mad. Their tongues stroked and played and shivers cascaded over her like delicious waterfalls of pleasure.

She felt his arousal push into her belly and she instinctively pushed against him.

His hand slid up her abdomen and cupped her right breast. Her back arched, and she felt her nipples harden. Good heavens, she’d never felt such sensations. He kneaded the sensitive flesh and the tingles between her legs intensified.

With a movement full of impatience, he slipped his hand beneath her dressing gown and stroked her aching nipple through the soft fabric of her nigthrail. His mouth left hers and blazed a trail to her ear, then down her throat and finally took the place of his hand. He kissed her breast through the fabric and she wanted to ask him to tear it off her, to touch her flesh, but she kept her mouth shut.

She bucked against him, wanting more, wanting release, wanting him.

“Oh, Justin.”

“I know what you want, love,” he said.

He dipped the fabric down, looked at her exposed breast for several breaths and then lowered his mouth to her. She plunged her fingers into his hair and did her best to not cry out so delicious were the pleasures he created.

“I want you,” she whispered, unable to keep the sentiment to herself any longer.

He swore, then rolled off her. He came to his feet and stepped away from her, his hands clenched at his sides. “Chrissy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” He shook his head.

She covered herself back up and slowly came to her feet. “What’s the matter?”

“I can’t do this. Not with you.” Then he turned and slipped out the door.

Not with her? What did that mean? What was the matter with her? He had told her on more than occasion he found her beautiful. So why not her?

More importantly why did she need him to want her? He was certainly not a suitor and they were not going to marry, so why did it matter? The easy answer was because it felt good. She was obviously attracted to him and his touch did amazing things to her body.

She’d never before been touched or kissed in such a way, and though it might be horribly unladylike, she loved it, loved the desire coursing thick through her blood. It wasn’t merely the sensations, though, because deep down she knew those embraces wouldn’t be the same with just anyone.

It terrified her to examine the situation closer to discover the truth. She was playing a dangerous game, and if she kept at it, she knew she would lose.

…

What the hell had he been thinking? Justin chose to send his rig on the way and walk home, hoping the cool night air would chill away his residual desire. He’d almost taken her. She would have allowed him to, but he could not ask that of her. He’d marry her, but damned if that would ruin her life as she imagined it. Her late sister-in-law, Rebecca, had never cared for him. He’d known that when he was younger. She’d found him sullen, and though she’d never said anything, he always felt she thought his birth made him unfit to be so friendly with their family.

He needed to take more care where Chrissy was concerned. He could not afford to hurt her. He’d only intended to speak with her about George, tell her the truth about his behavior. Certainly she wouldn’t want to marry a man who enjoyed physically pounding on people. But she could only make that decision if he actually gave her the information instead of pawing at her like some randy schoolboy. Next time he saw her, he’d tell her the truth about George.