Lead (Stage Dive, #3)(82)

“What do you think?” I asked.

His gaze stayed glued to my kiss-swollen lips. Cautiously, he touched his mouth. “Wasn’t so bad with you.”

“No?”

“One more.” A hand slid around the back of my neck, drawing me in as his mouth met mine. Our lips, teeth, and tongue fought for dominance, but it was the sweetest of battles. We both won in the end.

Without hesitation, he reached for the hem of my shirt, pulling it up over my head and tossing it aside. Then his hands cupped my breasts, taking their weight. “I been needing to do this.”

“Have you?” I panted.

“Oh, yeah. Your tits are amazing. Been needing to get my hands on them for a while.” His thumbs stroked over my nipples, toying with them, making them tighten. My breasts felt swollen and heavy, things down low stirring up a whole lot more. It was mildly embarrassing how wet he made me. What a confidence boosting turn on it was, seeing how much he enjoyed my body. Fingers stroked over the curve of my hips and the round of my belly (alas, I liked food far too much for it to ever be flat). In his eyes there was no hesitation, only appreciation. Just having him this close, his hands on me drove every other thought out of my head. Only now mattered.

He pinched my nipples lightly and I gasped.

“Sensitive?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“You want me to stop?”

“God, no.”

“You’re so f*cking hot,” he hummed. “You have no idea.”

“Didn’t realize you noticed me that way.”

“I couldn’t not notice you. And believe me, I tried. But in Adrian’s office. You were wearing that tight white shirt, glaring at me like you were ready to tear me apart. Nearly f*cking killed me not to take a bite out of you.”

“You remember what I was wearing when we first met?”

“Well, yeah. It’s not a big deal.”

I wasn’t so sure about that. Or maybe that was just me getting my hopes up.

He laughed, low down and dirty. “And when we go jogging … shit. Never buy a better sports bra. I think I’d cry if I couldn’t watch them bouncing around every morning.”

“They’re not that bad.”

No,” he said. “They’re that good.”

“What else have you noticed, Mr. Ferris?”

His smile was so evil. I loved it. And all the while his hands kept playing with my breasts, molding them with his fingers, driving me out of my mind. My lungs struggled to keep up, I was so overexcited. The seemed to be an ecstatic line of nerves running riot between my nipples and sex. If he kept it up, I just might come.

“What?” I asked, breathing only slightly heavily. “What is that look about?”

“Your ass when you go up the stairs. Kills me to hold back and not grab you.”

My lips parted. “That’s why you always let me go first. You bastard, I thought you were just being polite.”

“I know,” he said. “On your back.”

I lay down, every part of me tingling with excitement. His big hands covered me still, fingers playing with my tight nipples. Man, it felt good. I ached in the best possible, all-over-body way. Having him this close, feeling him touch me was its own reward, inside and out. I’m pretty certain I glowed every time he came near me. The man just had that effect.

His hands slid down my sides, tucking into the elastic of my underwear. The heat in his eyes made my sex squeeze tight.

“Need you naked,” he muttered, already dragging my panties down my legs.

And yes, it was a little nerve wracking, being totally bare in front of the man of my dreams. On the kitchen table I’d still been mostly covered by my dress. This time, however, I had nothing, not even my panties. It was all out there, on display. Jimmy Ferris, world-renowned, picture perfect, singing virtuoso stared down at me. The butterflies in my stomach went batshit. But nothing in his eyes gave me pause. Pure lust filled his face. It made warmth spear straight through me. We really needed to get busy. Now.

“Jimmy?”

“Hmm?” Carefully he lifted my wounded leg, moving it out, taking the pillow too. He spread me open until there was enough room for him lay between my thighs.

“Take your clothes off too,” I said. “I want to see all of you.”

He climbed off the end of the bed, already ripping off his own T-shirt, tearing into the buttons on his jeans. Though he did pause to retrieve a condom from a pocket, throwing it onto the bed beside me.

No underwear.

Absolutely, not one single pair of boxers, briefs, or combination of same adorned him. Crap. So screwed. My breathing stopped and my heart went into palpitations. How the hell would I ever get any work done around him ever again knowing he was bare beneath only one layer of clothing? I knew my mind when it came to him, pure smut. I’d never be able to stop myself from looking for the outline of his cock every time he moved.

I was doomed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, climbing back onto the bed, kneeling between my legs.

My mouth opened but no words came out. The hard heavy length of his dick was pointing straight at me and good god, did I want it. I melted for him, right there and then. My heart yearning to take him in, hold him tight. Someone in heaven had been truly inspired the day this man came forth. Penises had never struck me as being particularly graceful before. But Jimmy’s seemed proportioned just right and swung slightly to the left. It was definitely a size or two bigger than it needed to be, so typical of him to take it a step too far. A bead of pre-cum formed atop the dark red head and my mouth watered. I watched, rapt, as he rolled on the condom.