It’s my turn to gasp as his fingers dance down my sides until reaching the bottom of my t-shirt. I let go of his shoulders and raise my arms high so he can slide my shirt, oh so slowly, off me. I shiver when the cotton grazes my fingertips on its way to the floor.
“Cold?” he whispers into my ear before gently biting the lobe, which prompts another shiver.
All I do is laugh quietly, because cold is the last thing I am right now. Besides, turnabout is only fair. I slide my own fingers down his hard chest to grab the bottom of his shirt and pull it off.
Here’s the thing. I’ve seen Jonah Whitecomb in various stages of undress countless times before. It’s not like I haven’t ever seen him naked or ogled him prior to this moment. But tonight, marveling at how handsome he is, how perfect his chest looks, I can’t help but think I never truly saw him before. I want to tell him, but again, no words come. I simply stare in his eyes, my heart thumping painfully against my ribs.
Memories flash brightly through my mind, of the first time I saw him in my dreams. Of our first kiss. The first time I cried and he wiped away my tears. Finding both of our Connection rings. The first time we merged. Skinny-dipping in Tahiti. Out of order, all important, big or small, and I’m trembling because I was a fool to ever think that this person here wasn’t the one for me.
His hands curve around my waist and slide upwards, twisting until they cup my breasts. Even through the thin fabric of my bra, his fingers scorch deliciously into my sensitive skin. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs.
What I am is yours, I want to say. Instead, I kiss him again, putting everything I’m feeling into this tango between our mouths. When he unclasps my bra, it’s my turn to sigh into his mouth. He swallows my sound just like I did his; I like how we are keeping these pieces of each other. Making them part of us.
My bra joins my shirt on the floor, and I shiver again because his eyes have darkened as they travel slowly from my face to chest. I arch closer, needing him to touch me. And the moment his mouth finds one of my breasts, and his teeth graze my nipple, I very nearly collapse. Every part of me burns blue like a newborn star.
Suddenly, he’s flipping us around on the bed so I’m lying down and he’s over me. My hands go to the buttons on his shorts. If somebody knocks on my door or calls, I will kill them. Literally kill them with my bare hands. But I’m so shaky that he needs to take over, the dimple teasing me even though his smile is gentle. I prop myself up on my elbows and watch him remove his shorts and then his boxers, and I swear to everything good and holy in all the worlds, it’s the most erotic sight I’ve ever seen.
Gods, he’s gorgeous.
He climbs back onto the bed and I lift my hips so he can slide my skirt off. It’s torturously slow, even worse when he takes his extra-sweet time with my panties. I’ve gone from trembling straight to quivering—there’s no doubt from this moment out that I’m putty in his hands.
He stares down at me with hooded eyes for an eternity. I lean up higher, ready to grab him and drag his mouth back to mine, but he gently pushes back my arm. “There’s no rush.” His husky voice is like an auditory shot of lust. I’m molten now.
His mouth lingers on my navel, his warm tongue tracing a path south and then back up to my breasts. I collapse back against the bed, my fists curling in the sheets as Jonah slowly explores every inch of my willing body. Stars explode in my eyelids, each heartbeat close to his ear telling him wantneedwant.
He gives me what I crave when his hand slides down my body and swirls between my legs. I ought to be embarrassed by how wet I already am for him, but I’m not, not even when he presses a lingering kiss right above the spot where his fingers are torturing me in the best of ways. Instead, I moan; the sound brings his mouth back up to mine, and we’re kissing, hotter than before, and the intensity of it all is too much, because my body supernovas underneath his hands and touch.
But it’s not enough. Even as my body shudders out in waves, I snake my hand down between our bodies until I find him, hard and ready. Despite the urge to take him in my mouth, I need him in me right now more. I need this connection between us. I need us to finally be one, even though he’s so big I worry we won’t fit. He gasps at my touch, making me smile. I run my fingertips lightly up and down the length, delighting in how he’s the one shuddering now.
His hand replaces mine and he looks down at me, eyes serious. He’s asking me if I’m ready for this.
I nod slowly but surely. The desire in his eyes intensifies, which only magnifies my own yearnings.
“You don’t happen to have . . .” His laugh is husky, a cross between and plea and a moan as he presses his forehead to mine.