Fly With Me (Wild Aces #1)(18)

Noah stroked the back of my neck, a shiver rippling through me. His touch was light, his fingers teasing. He slid forward, tracing the curve of my neck, skimming my collarbone, my entire world focused on the pads of his fingers. Each part of my body that he touched felt remade, born again to something new, something I’d never imagined. As though I gave those pieces to him, losing myself at the same time I found something I’d never expected.

There was so much beauty here that it hurt. I’d wanted dirty and quick and I’d gotten the slow death, death by one thousand strokes.

I loved every single one of them.

I sucked in a deep breath when Noah reached the center of my chest, hovering there, inches away from my cleavage. He turned me to face him, his other hand tipping my chin up so our gazes locked.

My mouth went dry.

His eyes were night, dark pools I couldn’t read, his breath ragged as though he’d gone to war and barely come out the other end. I drank his sighs as though they were water and I was dying of thirst, wanting, needing to take each part of his body into mine.

This wasn’t sex. It was worship.

And then his lips closed over my earlobe and I forgot everything as I succumbed to the deep pull of lust that assailed me and gave him my body even as I clung to my heart, as if I could hide it away from him in some secret place he couldn’t touch.

I wasn’t a romantic, far from it. And I hadn’t confused sex with love in a very long time. But I’d never gotten this before. Never felt such a strong link between my body and someone else’s, never felt the kind of cause and effect that meant that he did and I felt.

Until now. Until Noah took fifteen years of hard-won dating knowledge and flung it back at me as though it were nothing, and suddenly, I felt a different kind of naked. Like my bravado, and sass, and all the armor I put on had failed me. I went from the driver’s seat to just-along-for-the-ride with a few caresses, and hell, I was all too willing to follow him.

He nipped me, his mouth hot against my ear, paying homage to another part of my body as if each curve of flesh was a stop on his own personal pilgrimage and I was his hallelujah. I’d never thought of my ears as particularly erotic, but holy shit, Noah proved me wrong.

His fingers stroked my skin, moving lower until he reached the top of my dress. I arched forward, my body craving more, laying myself at his altar.

“Touch me,” I whispered, my voice hoarse and needy, my plea sounding suspiciously more like a demand. I wanted to cloak myself in the promises his body gave me, sink down on his cock until he filled me. I wanted the memory of this night to sustain me long after the magic had gone, when I was back to my ordinary life and dates that ended with too-wet kisses on my doorstep and a pint of H?agen-Dazs after.

This was one of those magical nights I’d read about, dreamed of, but never experienced myself. And now that it was here, I was overcome with the desire to both draw it out and rush to the best part.

Noah’s hands settled on my hips, holding me in place as his gaze all but devoured me with the same fervor as a condemned man given his last meal, and another ache filled me. I didn’t feel like some interchangeable girl like I had with other guys, like I was just the means to an end for a guy chasing his next orgasm. I felt like he chased me.

“I never want to stop touching you,” Noah whispered, his voice throaty and low, my legs quivering as the words cloaked me in heat. His hand skimmed up the curve of my waist. “It feels wrong to be near you and not touch you. My hands turn greedy around you. So f*cking greedy. I can’t get enough. There are too many places on your body that I want to touch, kiss, lick, f*ck.”

Yes, please.

I’d never been shy about my body. I would never be called skinny, but it wasn’t lost on me that there were plenty of guys who liked boobs and asses, and thankfully, I had both to spare. And by the way Noah looked at me like I was a present for him to unwrap, I figured they worked for him.

Not to mention, I had a pretty awesome view myself . . . and a whole lot of fantasies.

I reached between us, my own fingers turning greedy, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, the need to have him naked and on top of me—or under me—eclipsing all else.

Noah stilled as I reached his stomach, my hand slipping down to stroke his abs through the thin fabric of his undershirt. His muscles flexed reflexively beneath my touch, my mouth dry, body wet. I wanted more of what I’d seen at the pool today. I wanted to gorge myself on him until I was happy, and sated, and too full to move.

My movements went from hesitant to hungry, racing through the buttons, tugging the shirt off his shoulders until all he wore was the V-neck white T-shirt that looked like it had seen more than a few washes.

The knot in my stomach tightened.

I didn’t know what was in the Vegas water, but whatever it was, there was something about his ruggedness, his I-don’t-give-a-shit, this-is-who-I-am, f*cking-deal attitude that turned me on completely. This wasn’t a guy I would be able to manage; there was little softness to him. He was a handful in a way I’d never experienced before. A man who lived by a code of his own, one I still didn’t completely understand. And where I’d never thought I was the kind of girl who appealed to a rugged guy, the evidence to the contrary stood right in front of me.

I pulled at the hem of his T-shirt, my fingers sliding over satiny smooth skin. I yanked the fabric higher, the hiss that escaped his mouth singing in my blood. Our hands collided as we both struggled to get it over his head and then his shirt hit the floor and I sank to my knees.