All They Need(69)

She closed her eyes, the better to appreciate the utter satisfaction pulsing through her body. He was still inside her, and she could feel his heart pounding. She ran her hands along his body in a slow, relaxed exploration, smoothing over the muscular planes of his back, shaping his rounded buttocks, discovering the backs of his thighs. After a few minutes he stirred and lifted his weight off her chest. She opened her eyes to find him watching her, a small smile on his lips.

“How you doin’?” he asked.

“I’m doin’ okay.”



“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.”

His smile broadened into a grin. She punched him lightly on the arm. “Okay, now you’re getting dangerously close to smug territory.”

“You know, I think I’m willing to risk it.”

He kissed her, his lips gentle. When he lifted his head again there was no mistaking the tenderness in his eyes. He withdrew from her and she watched as he left the bed to dispose of the condom. His backside was solid muscle and she watched the bounce of his butt cheeks with shameless appreciation. When he exited the en suite she was treated to a full frontal and it was all she could do to suppress an admiring sigh.

He had a beautiful body—well proportioned, muscular but not overly so, with long, powerful thighs, a hard, flat belly and the exact right amount of chest hair.

She’d assumed he was going to get straight back beneath the covers, but instead he stopped by the foot of the bed and cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Seen enough?” he asked cheekily.

Busted.

She laughed. Couldn’t help herself. “Are you accusing me of ogling you?”

“Yes, ma’am, I am.”

He bent and scooped up his abandoned scarf, looping it around his neck. Then he strutted toward her in perfect imitation of a catwalk model, all haughty looks and cheekbones and pout, gorgeously, undeniably, utterly naked bar the scarf arranged jauntily around his neck. When he reached the bedside table, he did a sharp turn and strutted in the opposite direction, working it for all he was worth.

He should have looked ridiculous, but he didn’t. He looked spectacular. Gorgeous. Too cute for words. She didn’t know whether to laugh, applaud or drag him back into bed, so she settled for grabbing hold of the scarf when he made his second pass by the bed.

“Stop being a tease,” she said, using the scarf to reel him in.

“You’re the one doing the teasing, making promises with your eyes like that,” he said as he climbed onto the bed.

Excitement kicked inside her as he drew back the covers and pressed his body over hers again. She could feel him growing hard against her thighs and answering heat surged through her belly.

“It’s only teasing if you don’t follow through,” she said.

“That’s an excellent point.”

She slid a hand between their bodies to capture his growing erection. “Actually, I think you’ll find this is an excellent point.”

He laughed, the sound loud and uninhibited. “I stand corrected.”

He lowered his head and started to kiss and lick and suck her neck, even as one of his hands began a slow, sensual glide down her body. She let her head fall to one side, savoring the slide of skin on skin, the feel of him beneath her hand, the wet velvet of his tongue on her neck.

Had she known, deep inside, that it would be like this with him? Was that why it had been so hard to make herself be sensible where he was concerned?

She let go of thought as instinct took over. Right at this moment, nothing else mattered except the need and the want and the desire burning between them. Everything else—the world, the future, the past—could wait.





CHAPTER TWELVE



MEL WOKE WITH A START, very aware of the heavy, warm weight of a male arm wrapped around her. Her first impulse was to roll away, to push him away. And then she remembered: this was Flynn lying beside her, not Owen, and she was in her own home, in her own bed, not trapped in an unhappy marriage.

She let out the breath she’d been holding and tried to enjoy the fact that it was Flynn, listening to his steady breathing, remembering last night. They’d made love three times, laughing and talking and teasing each other until need had taken over. Mel couldn’t remember ever laughing so much with a man in the bedroom. Not that there was anything laughable about Flynn’s body or his lovemaking—far from it. But he was playful and irreverent and self-deprecating and cheeky and—sometimes—daring. It was hard not to laugh and be engaged by and seduced by a man who was so beautiful, knowing, tender and funny, and she’d thrown herself into the experience—into his arms—with complete abandon.