Match Me If You Can (Chicago Stars #6)(70)

“This is going to ruin everything,” she whispered against his mouth, needing to say the words even though she didn’t do one thing to stop him.

“Let’s do it anyway,” he said in a husky rasp. “We’ll sort it out afterward.”

Exactly what she wanted to hear. She lost herself in their kiss—limp, spellbound, stupid …a little bit in love.

Moments later, her dress lay in a puddle around her feet along with her bra, a pair of panties, and everything he’d been wearing—one pair of black athletic shorts. They were on the porch, but it was dark, the trees thick, and who cared? He gazed down at her breasts, not touching them, simply looking. With one hand he cupped her shoulder. With the other, he ran the tips of his fingers down her spine and dabbled with her coccyx. She shivered and pressed her cheek to his chest, then turned her lips against his skin only to have him spring back and catch his breath in a long hiss.

“Do not move.”

He broke away and dashed toward the kitchen, giving her an all-too-brief glimpse of a spectacularly tight male butt. It flashed through her mind that he might be retrieving his cell so he could multitask, but he turned off the overhead fixture in the kitchen, leaving only the stove light on, then disappeared into the living area and shut off more lights. Moments later he reappeared. The dim golden light from the kitchen played along his long-muscled body as he came toward her. He was fully erect. When he reached her side, he held up a trio of condoms and said softly, “Consider these a token of my affection.”

“Noted and appreciated,” she replied, just as softly.

He pressed her onto the mattress. She remembered how goal driven he was and realized that Girls Night at the Movies might have raised her expectations for lingering foreplay too high. Sure enough, in much too short a time he rolled above her, his mouth at her breast. She sank her fingers into his hair. “You’re going to rush me, aren’t you?”

“No doubt about it.” He slipped his hand to her belly, already zeroing in on command central.

“I want more kissing.”

“No problem.” He took her nipple between his lips.

She sucked in her breath. “On the mouth.”

He teased the tiny, turgid nub, his breath growing shallow. “Let’s negotiate.”

She dug her fingers into his back, which was already damp from whatever small amount of restraint he might be practicing. Her thighs automatically parted. “I should have expected this.”

He trailed his thumb over the thatch of curly hair at the base of her stomach and played in the fiery threads. “I’ll go too fast for you. That’s a given, and I apologize in advance.” She gave a soft gasp of pleasure when he touched warm, wet flesh. “But it’s been a long time for me, and what might, in reality, only take minutes—”

“If that.” Her toes curled.

“—will seem like years to me.” His voice grew ragged. “So here’s what I’m going to suggest.” She gripped his hips as he played with her. “Let’s accept the fact that I can’t satisfy you the first time. That takes the pressure off both of us.”

She bent her knees and said, in a strangled gasp, “Off you, anyway.”

“But once I’ve released that first burst of …steam…”—he sucked in his breath, his words coming fast and choppy—“I’ll have all the time in the world”—her head thrashed as his wily fingers teased her in the most intimate way—“to do the job right.” He nudged her thighs wider. “And you, Tinker Bell…” She took his weight. “You’ll have a night you’ll never forget.”

He entered her with a groan, and even though she was slick and oh-so-ready, it wasn’t an easy fit. She drew up her knees and arched her back. He closed his mouth over hers, took her hips in his palms, and tilted her to the angle they both wanted.

Feverish, demented images shimmered behind her eyelids. The long, thick body of a python pushing into her, uncoiling…stretching …going deeper…deeper still. His back grew rigid beneath her palms. The sweet attack …The plunge. Again and again. And then the final climb. He began to shudder. She swallowed his low, guttural moan. Light shimmered behind her eyes. She took his weight, threw back her head, and gave herself up.

Long minutes passed. He brushed his lips against her temple, then rolled to his side, barely staying on the narrow mattress. She slid over to give him room. They readjusted. He drew her against his damp skin and began playing with her hair. She was dazed, surfeited, determined not to think. Not yet.

“It…it didn’t happen for me,” she said.

He propped himself up on one elbow and gazed into her lying eyes. “I hate to say this, but I told you so.”

“You were right, as usual.”

Crinkles formed at the corners of his eyes, and he pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “Let this be a lesson.” He pulled himself up. “I’m going to need a few minutes.”

“I’ll do some word scrambles in my head.”

“Good idea.” As she listened to the night sounds that surrounded their nest in the woods, he disappeared inside. He returned a few minutes later with a beer, sat on the side of the mattress, and held the bottle out for her. She took a swig and gave it back. He set the bottle on the floor, then lay down and pulled her to his shoulder, where he began playing with a lock of her hair again. The tender intimacy made her want to cry, so she rolled on top of him and began her own sensuous exploration.