“Mmm,” he murmured noncommittally. “I guess. Although…” He grabbed her toothbrush, ran it under the faucet, and tossed it on the counter. “I hafta say that since the first moment I laid eyes on you, I wanted to be here, brushing our teeth together and—”
He pulled the collar of her sweater down, revealing her bra strap and shoulder. He bent to kiss her shoulder and his shaggy blond hair fell over his forehead. His eyes were lasers reflecting back at her from the mirror. His breath was warm, his lips cool from the water, and his tongue a bold sweep of liquid desire. When he kissed her there, she was helpless to resist him. Totally enslaved to his every want, his every need, his every demand.
“And what?” she breathed, her head falling back against his broad shoulder as sensation shot from the spot he was kissing, diffused through her entire body, and coalesced in her core. She was instantly achy, instantly needy. It was crazy how that happened. One minute they were sharing a companionable moment, completely benign, totally platonic. The next minute, all she wanted to do was to rip his clothes off and impale herself on the hard, male flesh he pressed against her bottom as he crowded her close to the vanity.
“And everything,” he finally finished, his voice deliciously low. It rumbled from his chest into her back. “From the moment I laid eyes on you I wanted everything.”
Before she knew what he was about, he released the collar of her sweater so he could grab the hem and whip the garment over her head. With an expertise that was both amazing and a little annoying—just how many bras has he taken off in his life?—he flicked open the clasp of her bra and dragged it from her shoulders, tossing it next to the sweater on the tile floor.
And then there she was. Naked. Again. Well, mostly naked anyway. There were still her pesky jeans and panties and socks to worry about—they’d both kicked off their boots before climbing onto his bed to eat the hot dogs.
Her reflection in the mirror revealed the rise and fall of her breasts as her breaths came short and fast. She’d never really thought of her boobs as anything to write home about. Sure, they were round and firm. But they were also a little on the small side. And her nipples were tiny. The areolas almost nonexistent around the buds of the nipples themselves, especially when they were puckered with desire, like they were now.
But when Dan looked at her, when he reverently cupped her from behind, his thumbs seeking the extended tips, she saw herself through his eyes. And she felt…beautiful. Soft and feminine. Flawlessly creamy and sensuously erotic. She shivered within the circle of his embrace, under the expertise of his hands and fingers.
“God, Penni,” he murmured, his face next to hers, his eyes watching what his hands were doing. “You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous you make me harder than I’ve ever been before.”
As if to prove his point, he flexed his hips forward, driving her thighs into edge of the counter and rubbing the length of himself against her ass. It was incredibly sexy, carnal even, watching what he was doing to her at the same time she was feeling it. He must have thought so too. Because he never took his eyes off her, off the reflected images of her breasts in his hands.
Her skin looked milky white compared to his long, tan fingers. And the contrast between the rough calluses and scars on the backs of his hands, and the flawless flesh of her breasts was stark. He was man. Battle-scarred and tough. And she was woman. Soft and pliant.
He caught her sensitive nipples between his thumb and forefingers and gently plucked. She would swear she felt the sensation directly between her thighs. A rush of blood swelled her sex. A surge of wetness slicked her core, readying her for what was to come when finally, finally, the two of them would be together. Taking their time. Enjoying the pleasure and desire that had raged between them from the beginning.
She moaned her encouragement, rubbing her bottom against the steely shaft that throbbed so insistently.
“You want more?” he asked, watching her reactions.
“God, yes,” she hissed. When it came to him, when it came to this, she had no pride. Only need. Only want.
He released one of her breasts so he could turn her chin. And then…oh, and then he kissed her. In that Dan way. Like a conqueror. Like a gladiator. All pillage and plunder and no waiting for permission.
The slick glide of his tongue into her mouth mimicked the motion of his hand at her breast. Every time he pushed past her teeth, he plucked her nipple. And eventually, she couldn’t distinguish one form of pleasure from the other. It was all tangled up, tied up together. Her heart beat wildly against her rib cage. Her stomach quivered with want. Goose bumps peppered her skin, making the nerve endings beneath hyperaware so that every brush of his fingers, every hot rush of his breath was both agony and ecstasy.
“Dan…” His name was sigh, prayer, and entreaty.