Shawna tilted back her head and his mouth landed on her luscious lips. Succulent. Tasty.
When she moaned, her sweet breath vibrated in his mouth. He gathered the hem of her dress in one fist, dragging it up past her thighs and causing her to shiver when his other hand glided in a firm caress over her hips to her stomach.
He loved her body—soft to the touch, womanly, and made for sex. He couldn’t wait to get her naked so he would no longer have to suffer from a painful erection so swollen he didn’t think he’d last long once he entered inside of her.
She turned in his arms, hot and desperate. Mouths still fused together, they stumbled into the wall. His tongue forged farther into her mouth and her fingertips drifted through his dark hair. Their tongues circled each other—stroking, teasing, and fanning the flames of desire.
Nibbling his lips, Shawna kissed him without restraint, blindly, eagerly. Sucking on his lower lip, licking his teeth, she relished the taste of him.
His hands kept busy. They were everywhere, like an octopus. A sexy, blue-eyed octopus who had her up against the wall and whose kisses created a painful ache deep in her abdomen. Ryan lowered his mouth to the skin of her neck, tormenting the arch of her throat down to the frantic pulse in the middle of her collarbone. He moved with a type of desperation, as if unable to resist kissing everywhere he saw exposed skin.
She tugged his shirt from the waistband of his jeans to touch him. The muscles of his back and chest jerked under her palms.
His hard thigh nudged her legs open. Shaking, she spread them wider so he could palm the damp silk of her panties. She made a sound of womanly approval as desire flooded between her thighs. Already spinning out of control, she burned up with a fever-like need.
A shaky gasp broke from her throat when one of his fingers penetrated the slick opening of her sex. Then another.
Ryan whispered in her ear, but she gasped and pumped so feverishly into his hand she didn’t hear what he said. Arms wrapped around his neck, her breasts flattened against his chest, Shawna whispered his name over and over as her need raged on.
“Ryan . . . Ryan . . .”
As his fingers pumped inside of her, his thumb found the distended nub and massaged it. She came suddenly, violently, her feminine walls clutching at his fingers. An indecent amount of moisture flooded between her legs, and a thin trail of it slid along the inside of her thigh. It was that easy to get her off, as if her libido had simply been lying in wait for him to bring it back to full life.
He swore softly and she shut her eyes, tremors racing through her as her knees became as wobbly as gelatin, and she had to cling to him or collapse at his feet. Spearing his fingers into her loose hair, he held her against him. The tips of her breasts, enlarged and aching, tightened painfully in the close embrace.
“You only think about this every now and again?” he asked, reminding her of the answer she’d given when he asked if she ever thought about their time together. “How?”
This was the proof that she’d lied. The way she’d fallen into his arms, as if time and space hadn’t separated them.
He dragged her into the living room toward the sofa, but they missed it and tumbled onto the floor. He took the brunt of the fall and she landed on top of him.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he whispered, rolling her onto her back.
He found her mouth again and kissed her hungrily, then her cheeks, showering her with affection—alternating between soft and sweet, and hard and demanding. His mouth moved lower to her neck where he lingered for a moment, trailing hot kisses and nipping her skin just shy of too hard.