Can't Help Falling In Love (The Sullivans #3)(33)

And then—oh God, please!—she felt him just brush up against the edge of her tightly puckered areola, and her hips were bucking hard into the taut muscles of his thigh as she tried to take herself over the edge he seemed so determined to keep just out of reach, when he lifted his head.

“And what did you come up with?”

No! He couldn’t do this to her now. Couldn’t stop when she was so close.

“I can’t—” She panted. “I need—”

But as her vision cleared, she could see that he wasn’t going to give her what she needed until she gave him his first.

“Tell me what you were thinking I would make you do.”

Desperate for even a small orgasm to take the edge off this crazy need coursing through her, she blurted, “You made me touch myself.”

His eyes lit with even more arousal at her surprising statement.

“And?”

“And—” She wasn’t really going to say this, was she? She couldn’t possibly give away such deeply held fantasies to a man who could never be anything more to her than just one perfect night, could she? Nonetheless, the words spilled from her lips. “And after you made me come for you, you made me come even better with your hands, and mouth, on me.”

She was rewarded with Gabe’s lips over the tip of one breast. For all his talk about slow, there was nothing easy about the way he suckled her, and she didn’t want there to be.

Megan threaded her hands into his dark hair and held him to her, loving the sweet suction of his lips and tongue and teeth over her shockingly aroused flesh. Nothing had ever felt this good. This right. And when he shifted his attention to her other nipple, even though she should have known how to prepare herself for the pleasure of his mouth, she couldn’t even come close. Not when the pleasure of being with Gabe continued to shock her from moment to moment.

His hands cupped and caressed her even as his mouth stole her every lucid thought away. It wasn’t just foreplay, wasn’t just sex...what he was doing to her was worship, pure and simple.

And through it all, she rocked and thrust herself against his thigh, her arousal growing to a fever pitch with every pull of his tongue against her, with every stroke of his fingers over desperately aroused skin, until she was right there, right on the edge of that orgasm he promised her she’d have.

The shock of cool air rushing over her skin hit her hard enough to have her eyes flying open as Gabe lifted himself away from her and off the bed. Before she could get her brain to cooperate, he was lowering himself into the chair in the corner.

“Show me, Megan,” he said in a husky voice. “Show me how you like to be touched.”

But she was already shaking her head, getting onto her knees to come after him and pull him back on to the bed with her.

“You already know.” And it would be so much easier, so much safer if he just touched her, instead.

But he wasn’t coming back toward her outstretched hand. “Let me watch this first time. Let me see you come apart with your hands on yourself.”

This was crazy. She shouldn’t even be considering doing this, should never have told him about her fantasy. Heck, she shouldn’t have had the fantasy at all!

But how long had she pushed away her own reckless urges? How many years had she forced herself to turn from adrenaline, to focus on always being safe, always taking the sure but slightly boring path before her. She wished she didn’t know the answer, wished she didn’t have to admit that even before she’d lost her husband, as a young mother she’d been playing it way too safe.

For one night, could all rules be off?

For a handful of hours, could the sky be the limit?

And could she trust not only Gabe, but herself enough to take off the reins and run free for just a little while?

The answers came from somewhere deep inside—three yeses that actually seemed to come with more relief than fear—and she found herself moving back onto the bed while Gabe watched her from across the small room.

“You still have all your clothes on,” ended up being her only remaining protest as she settled back against the pillows.

“You belong naked,” he told her.

“You do, too,” she said in a hoarse voice, knowing without having to guess just how beautiful he was going to be without his clothes on.

His mouth moved up into a smile at her words, but the smile never reached his eyes, couldn’t do a thing to extinguish the fire in them.

She tried to be comfortable with her nudity, tried to act as if lying there on the bed before him with one hand over the curve of her breast and the other on her stomach was a normal thing for her to be doing.

But it wasn’t. Not at all.

Utterly unable to hold anything back from Gabe until now, she found this moment was no different. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Yes, you do,” he said in that low voice that never failed to send shivers through her. “You were fantasizing about it just a few minutes ago. Go back to that fantasy and let yourself live it. Give us both the pleasure of you touching yourself, Megan.”

He was right. She’d had plenty of practice masturbating in the past few years. Not with toys that she would have been afraid one particular curious little mind would find in her drawer, but with her own hands, her own fingers.

Just like Gabe wanted her to do right now.