Three Wishes(70)

His hard body pressed against her, so familiar, so warm, almost fevered. She wasn’t going to be able to deny her body much longer the attention it craved.

“We can’t,” she pleaded.

“We can,” he growled against her throat, the rumble of his voice moving through her until she shivered.

He felt it, she knew, he couldn’t help but feel it and his mouth came back to hers and he kissed her again.

This time she didn’t struggle. The minute his lips touched hers, they parted and his tongue slid inside.

And that was it. She lost her battle and she acquiesced as the gymnastics team in her belly, warmed up and ready to go, gave the performance of their life.

Eight years of grief and yearning poured out of her and she kissed him back, her tongue warring with his, her hands moving on his body, roaming over his back, down his hips, sliding over his behind. She’d forgotten how hard his body was, the tough sinew under his silken skin. She tore at his shirt, wanting the feel of him with nothing in the way. Once free of his jeans, her hands delved underneath the shirt to trail across his waist and up his back.

His skin was burning to the touch.

It was too much, too soon. The tears came up the back of her throat, burning as her body burned under his touch.

His mouth never left hers, delivering its heady kiss, but one of his hands went to her breast, cupping it, finding her nipple with the pad of his thumb. She gasped against his mouth at the feel of him there, powerful shafts of pleasure shot straight through her.

At her gasp, his kiss deepened and what was already wild became wilder. Years of grief changed to relief that he was alive, breathing, with her again, touching her again, kissing her again.

This time, her hands and mouth became insistent, demanding, her fingers rushing across his skin, under his shirt, one of them moving to his belly, down, until she felt him hard against the palm of her hand.

The tears sprang from her eyes, falling silently along her temples as he tore his mouth from hers on a groan at her touch, his mouth gliding to her ear.

“Do you still want to stop?” His voice was rough with arousal but he sounded as if he wanted a response. As if he’d move away if that was what she desired.

She didn’t answer, couldn’t answer.

His hand tightened at her breast, his thumb swirling provocatively.

“Stop me now, Lily, it’ll be your only chance.”

Still unable to speak, she shook her head and Nate didn’t hesitate. His mouth took hers in another searing kiss as both of his hands moved to her hips, pressing her against him, her hand, still between them, forced intimately flat against his arousal.

Just as quickly as he did it, he released her hips, his mouth and tongue everywhere, sliding down her throat, to her ear, along her collarbone, the edge of her bodice. He bent his head as one hand yanked her skirt up over her h*ps and without delay his hand went between her legs as his mouth closed over her sensitised nipple. He was doing both through her clothing, his teeth and tongue working sensuously at her nipple over her dress, his fingers pressing against her panties, using the silky fabric as tantalising friction, and her body, already breathlessly alive at his touch, started vibrating.

“Nate,” she breathed in wonder.

She’d forgotten how glorious it was. She thought she remembered but she’d forgotten.

He surged up again, his mouth against hers, his hand moved up to the edge of her underwear and then it plunged in.

“I’ve been waiting eight years to hear you say my name like that again.”

Her breath caught at his words, the husky tone of wanting in his voice, as his finger found her and circled deliciously. She was clutching at him as the lusty spirals shot out from between her legs, his lips still touching hers but he didn’t kiss her.

“Say it again,” he demanded.

Her eyes had closed to concentrate on what her body was feeling and at his demand, they flew open and his black gaze was boring into her.

“Say it again, Lily,” he commanded.

She bit her lip and his hand moved, his finger slowly, beautifully, slid inside her and at the feel of him filling her again, even just his finger, she couldn’t help herself.

“Nate.”

His mouth came down on hers hard as his hand worked at her and she pressed against it, kissing him back with desperate wanting.

Then, without warning, his head jerked up and his hand, his thumb at the core of her, one finger deep inside her, completely stilled.

“Jesus,” he cursed, his hand moving swiftly but gently away from her, making her moan in pleasure mingled with disappointment.

He surged up lithely, pulling her along with him. She was dazed with passion, her legs trembling so badly she had to lean against him and hold onto his waist.

“Nate,” she whispered uncertainly as one of his arms held her steady, the other hand yanked the skirt of her dress back in place.

His head came up at the sound of his name and he looked into her face, a satisfied grin playing about his mouth. His face, too, was still set with passion and at the sight of it, she sucked in her breath.

Briefly, he pressed his lips against hers.

Then he murmured, “Someone’s coming.”

And before this frightening thought could penetrate her desire fogged brain, before she could get her buckling knees under control, before she could break away from him, the door flew open and Fazire was standing there.