Just To Be With You (The Sullivans #12)(43)

He had to pull her against him, had to kiss her again. “I like it hot,” he warned her.

“Me too.”

He got into the tub and lowered her down with him so that she was sitting between his legs, her back pressed against his chest. Tatiana let out a happy sigh as the hot water rose and steamed over both of them. Taking his hands in hers, she pulled his arms tightly around her, then reached out with her right foot and deftly turned off the faucets with her pretty painted toes.

“Perfect.” She leaned her head against the crook of his shoulder. “This is absolutely perfect.”

Ian couldn’t stop himself from pressing a kiss to the top of her head. And when she shifted so that he could see her face, the brightness of the smile she gave him almost fooled him into thinking the sun had already risen on their one and only night together.

“You’re perfect,” he told her, knowing with total certainty that he’d never be this close again to such sweet perfection if he lived to be a thousand.

“I’ve seen perfect lots of times. So have you. We both know I’m not even close to perfect.”

He could still hear her telling his ex-wife that casting directors had called her fat in the past, and though he’d already told her that they were wrong, he knew words alone would never convince her to see things his way. Deciding it would be much better to show her just how perfect she was, he slid his hands up from her waist to cup the fullness of her br**sts in his large palms beneath the water. Her skin was soft and slippery as he lifted them so that her ni**les peeked out from beneath the surface of the water.

“You not only have the prettiest br**sts I’ve ever seen, but look how responsive you are to my touch.” He slid the pads of his thumbs across both peaks at the same time and her ni**les grew even tighter against his touch. “Have you ever come just from this?”

“No.”

The one short word was more of a gasp from her lips than anything else as he continued to toy with her gorgeously sensitive br**sts. No other woman had made him want so much, or feel this reckless. He knew better than to make any promises, but as he rained kisses into the curve of her neck and shoulder, he had to say, “Maybe later tonight, if you’re not too tired, we’ll give it a try.”

His sensual words had her shuddering against him. Still, he was stunned when she said, “I want to try now.” She covered his hands with hers so that they were both cupping her br**sts, her voice barely above a whisper as she added, “I think I’m already close.”

He groaned into her hair. How the hell was he supposed to take things slow with her when she said things like that to him? Especially when she wasn’t saying it to try to turn him on, she was just telling him honestly how she felt.

“Just keep relaxing back against me, sweetheart, and I’ll make sure you end up feeling good one way or another.”

She laid her head against his shoulder with a contented sigh and for the rest of his life he knew he’d keep a picture of this moment in his mind. No other woman would ever compete with this memory of how perfect Tatiana looked in his tub, her eyes closed as she trusted him to touch her in just the right ways...and to show her the ecstasy her body was capable of.

Gently, slowly, he stroked her full br**sts, caressing every beautiful inch of her, from her ribs all the way out to her hard ni**les. She moaned her pleasure into the room, arching her back to press harder against his hands.

He could so easily, too easily, imagine teasing her like this for hours, taking her to the edge, then drawing away just enough that she’d be begging, pleading, for more. And if they could have had more than just this one night together, they might have been able to find out if she could come from just his hands, or mouth, on her br**sts alone.

But the week he’d kept his hands off her had seemed more like years, and tonight he couldn’t wait another second to run his hands over the rest of her.

She didn’t protest when he slid one hand down to the smooth skin between her thighs, and she was slick and hot, hotter even than the water in which they were lying. She let her legs fall open against his, then arched her hips up into his hand. Barely remembering in time that he’d just taken her virginity less than thirty minutes ago, he only just stopped himself from thrusting his fingers into her. And if she’d made any sound of pain, if she’d stiffened against him even the slightest bit, he would have forced himself to immediately pull away.

Thank God, she was liquid pleasure in his arms as she rocked against his hand, his fingers slipping and sliding against—then into—her in an intoxicatingly sensual rhythm.

Already, he recognized the signs that she was about to come, and he needed her mouth against his, needed to drink in her cries of pleasure. But even that wasn’t enough, not when he also needed to feel her br**sts against his chest, needed to feel her heart beating against his, needed to be able to kiss her, needed to watch her eyes dilate as she climaxed.

Temporarily moving his hands to her hips, he lifted her out of the water, spun her around, then brought her back down so that she was facing him. She laughed as water splashed over the side of the tub when their limbs got tangled and then her long, wet hair temporarily blinded them both.

When they’d brushed it away, her eyes were hazy with desire as she smiled down at him. “Hi there.”

Even as caught up as he was in the grip of intense desire, he found himself smiling back at her. “Hi.”