“I didn’t feel worthy of the honor. Not when I knew that nothing could come of it.”
As it turned out, Chet Voorhees, her first college boyfriend, hadn’t been worthy of it either, but that hadn’t stopped him.
“And you feel worthy of it now? Or is honor no longer involved?”
His hand cupped the back of her head as his thumb brushed across her cheek.
“Things are different. Clearer. We are much older. There’s an end game we’ve both agreed to. There’s an attraction we both have. And a bedroom we’ve been forced to share. I like you, Mandy. And, maybe more importantly, I respect you. Your business sense, your drive, the way you related to Delanie.” Those strokes on her cheek were like zings of electricity jolting through her, softening her from the inside out. “It only increases your attractiveness. And that’s the truth.”
She wanted to believe him. But believing him would only make it more dangerous for her heart.
His large fingers slid down her cheek and cupped her chin. “Let’s finish what was started that summer.”
He leaned in. Warm lips brushed across hers in a whisper of a kiss.
“Don’t think. Just feel, honey,” he murmured against her ear.
That was easy enough to do, given the sensations dancing through her.
He kissed her temple, a sweet and simple gesture. And then covered her mouth as his muscled arms wrapped around her, enclosing her in a Ty-scented cocoon. This kiss was powerful and possessive, spiking passion clear to her toes.
She wanted this. She wanted him. That had never been the question. What she’d risk to have him—that was the problem. But the will to fight desire had drained out of her. She inched her hands around his neck as his tongue delved deep into her mouth and his chest rubbed against her breasts. Pulses of pleasure thrummed through her.
“God, you smell good. Taste good. Feel good.” He whispered the words in her ear, and those pulses of pleasure melded into a throbbing ache.
Breathing in his freshly showered scent, she kissed the soft skin of his throat.
He let out a small groan and shifted his body against her. His hips pressed hardened flesh between her legs, and his mouth covered hers, taking her air away.
He was a sensuous kisser, knowing how to play his tongue, how to sweep his lips, how much pressure was needed to tantalize, to possess. His body moved over hers in slow, lazy rhythms that caused a scrumptious friction. How could she resist him when she wanted him so much?
“I’ve waited a long time, Mandy.” Ty’s voice was gravely, deep, daunting as he leaned back and looked her in the eye.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, hugging him to her body. She felt the hard length of his penis through her clothes, and her whole body tightened in response as his mouth curved in an enticing smile. “I’m going to undress you. Slowly.”
An involuntary sigh of pure surrender escaped her lips.
He rose up from the bed, his knees astride her hips. She watched as his rough fingers scraped her flesh and fumbled with the fabric of her top. Cool air teased her skin as he lifted her shirt, only to be replaced by the caressing heat of breath and moist lips. A wave of gravity-defying desire lifted her when warm palms stroked across the tender spot of her belly.
In the next breath, his lips brushed across her breast and his tongue circled her nipple. All coherent thought faded. His lips tugged and pulled. Her hunger intensified. He shifted to the other nipple and began the same slow, tortuous dance with his tongue.
She closed her eyes to concentrate on the whirlwind of sensations his wet mouth was provoking just touching her there. She was so focused on what his mouth was doing, she didn’t notice his hand until he slid it under the waistband of her underwear. He cupped her crotch and murmured something about how wet she was. She dug her fingers into his hair as she felt the tip of his finger rub against her sensitive spot while his mouth continued to feed on her breasts, and her muscles collapsed.
Ty seemed to know exactly what a woman needed. Exactly what Mandy needed.
“Let me free you of these,” he murmured against her tummy, as he slid her undies down her legs, pulling them from under her in one sure motion. Her shirt slid up to her shoulders and then over her head.
She offered no resistance. And little help.
When she felt nothing more—no motion, no touch—she opened her eyes.
He was up on his knees, and pure masculine appreciation stared back at her.
“I’ve never wanted a woman like I want you, Mandy.” His words were matter of fact, but his voice quavered, as if the thought scared him.
She didn’t believe him, of course. It had been ten years since that incident at the creek, and he certainly never acted as if he wanted her more than other women. It was lust talking and nothing more. But tonight, lust was enough.
The prominent bulge in his pants, level with her face, beckoned her to explore.