All the Way (Romancing Manhattan #1)(19)

“Are you hungry for dinner?”

I shake my head no.

“Excellent.”

He leaves me long enough to return the supplies he’d pulled out back to the fridge, and then joins me, boosting me onto the countertop so I’m closer to him.

“I’m real sick and tired of keeping my hands off you, London.”

“I don’t remember receiving the memo that said you have to keep your hands off me.” I hook my foot behind his leg and urge him closer to me.

“I want you.”

“I’m right here.”

“Once I start, I’m not going to stop.”

“Is that a warning?”

“A promise.”

I grin and drag my fingers down his cheek. “No objections, Counselor.”

Rather than kiss me, his lips land on my neck, where he nibbles and licks his way to my collarbone, making me moan in delight.

“If at any time this makes you uncomfortable, or hurts your leg, I need you to talk to me.”

“I’m a talker,” I assure him, and grip onto the hair at the back of his head, willing him to never stop the magic that’s happening to my neck. He cups my breast over my tank top and flicks his thumb over my nipple, making me bite my lip.

I pull his shirt out of his shorts so I can finally touch the smooth skin there over rock-hard abs. My finger slips between the waistband of his shorts and his skin, and I run it back and forth, making him groan.

“You’re making me crazy, baby.”

“Isn’t that the point?”

His hand glides up my thigh, inside where my core is pulsing with need, and his fingertips brush gently over my shorts, where I need him the most.

“You’re so damn warm.”

“And wet.”

“Fuck.”





Chapter Five

~London~


He lifts me off the island and carries me into the living room, where he lays me down on the couch and kneels beside me, his hands all over me, as if he’s playing a treasured instrument.

“I need better access to you,” he says, and tugs my tank over my head, tosses it over his shoulder, and pauses to nuzzle my breasts over my bra. “You have great breasts.”

“Small.”

“Responsive.” He watches the nipple pucker under the fabric. I arch my back and he unfastens the bra, then tosses that over his shoulder as well, making me laugh. “Fuck, look at you.”

I’d rather look at Finn as his eyes roam up and down my torso. He lays his hand over my sternum and then glides down over my navel. I’m slender, but my muscles have lost some of their definition.

From the look on his face, he doesn’t mind in the least.

“I took my shirt off, now it’s your turn.”

His lips twitch with amusement as he grips the shirt between his shoulder blades and gives it a tug, pulling it over his head in that sexy way that men do, and I’m met with bronze, smooth, sexy male skin.

My hand roams over his chest and down his stomach. I can’t stop touching him. He leans over me, so my hand slides over his side to his back and his lips lock on a nipple, making my back arch in response.

“Oh, damn,” I moan. He alternates from sucking and biting to gently rubbing his tongue over it. It’s making me crazy, and this is just a nipple. I can’t even imagine what it would feel like if he paid the same attention to my pussy.

Just the thought of it has me scissoring my legs in anticipation.

We both still have our shorts on. My panties are certainly soaked through, and his cock is straining against the material of his shorts.

I want to scream, Let’s get this show on the road! Fuck me!

But before I can, he lifts me in his arms again and carries me up the stairs to his bedroom.

I haven’t been in here before, so I try to get a look around before he lowers me to the bed.

It’s a massive room, with large wood furniture and masculine linens.

It looks like him.

He sets me down on the bed and his brown eyes, hot with lust and need, glide over my body. He hooks his fingers into my shorts at my hips and pulls them, along with my panties, down my legs, and tosses them aside.

With his gaze holding mine, he shuffles out of his shorts and, from the end of the bed, crawls up to join me.

But rather than covering me with his body, he lays his hands on my thighs.

“Where should I avoid touching your leg?”

I point to the area that gives me the most trouble, and he presses an openmouthed kiss there before spreading my legs wide, opening me up to him.

“You are wet,” he says, and slips his finger through the wetness, over my lips and clit. I bite my lip and arch my hips at the same time, silently begging him for more.

“Please.”

“Please what?”

I chuckle and grip his hair in my fist, urging him closer.

“I want to hear the words, baby.”

“Kiss me.”

He plants a kiss on my inner thigh. “Here?”

“No.”

He kisses my hip. “Here?”

“You know that’s not where I want you.”

He blows on my center, but presses a kiss as high up on my thigh as he can go without kissing my pussy.

“Here?” His voice is a gruff whisper now, and I can only shake my head and grip on to the sheets at my hips. “Fuck, you smell good.”