Her Aussie?
She couldn’t believe her mind had conjured up such a thought. He wasn’t hers and she wasn’t his. At least not in that way. But tonight, she conceded, and whenever they made love, just for that moment, they would belong to each other in every way.
“Should I continue?”
She licked her lips in anticipation. “I might hurt you if you don’t.”
He chuckled as he slid his hands into the waistband of his briefs and slowly began easing them down his legs. “Oh my…” She could barely get the words past her throat.
Her breasts felt achy as she stared at that part of his anatomy, which seemed to get larger right before her eyes. She caught a lip between her teeth and tried not to clamp down too hard. But he had to be, without a doubt, in addition to being totally aroused and powerfully male, the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. And he stood there, with his legs braced apart, his hands on his hips and with a mass of hair flowing around his face, fully exposed to her. This was a man who could make women drool. A man who would get a second look whenever he entered a room, no matter what he was wearing. A man whose voice alone could make woman want to forget about being a good girl and just enjoy being bad.
She continued to stare, unable to do anything else, as he approached the bed. She moved into a sitting position to avoid being at eye level with his erection.
Gemma couldn’t help wondering what his next move would be. Did he expect her to return the favor and strip for him? When he reached the edge of the bed, she tilted her head back and met his gaze. “My turn?”
He smiled. “Yes, but I want to do things differently.”
She lifted a confused brow. “Differently?”
“Yes, instead of you stripping yourself, I want to do it.”
She swallowed, not sure she understood. “You want to take my clothes off?”
He shook his head as a sexy smile touched his lips. “No, I want to strip your clothes off you.”
And then he reached out and ripped off her blouse.
The surprised look on her face was priceless. Callum tossed her torn blouse across the room. And now his gaze was fixed on her chest and her blue satin push-up bra. Fascinated, he thought she looked sexy as hell.
“You owe me for that,” she said when she found her voice.
“And I’ll pay up,” he responded as he leaned forward to release the front clasp and then eased the straps down her shoulders, freeing what he thought were perfect twin mounds with mouth-watering dark nipples.
His hand trembled when he touched them, fondled them between his eager fingers, while watching her watch him, and seeing how her eyes darkened, and how her breath came out in a husky moan.
“Hold those naughty thoughts, Gemma,” he whispered when he released her and reached down to remove her sandals, rubbing his hands over her calves and ankles, while thinking her skin felt warm, almost feverish.
“Why do women torture their feet with these things?” His voice was deep and husky. He dropped the shoes by the bed.
“Because we know men like you enjoy seeing us in them.”
He continued to rub her feet when he smiled. “I like seeing you in them. But then I like seeing you out of them, too.”
His hand left her feet and began inching up her leg, past her knee to her thigh. But just for a second. His hand left her thigh and shifted over to the buttons on her skirt and with one tug sent them flying. She lifted her hips when he began pulling the skirt from her body and when she lay before him wearing nothing but a pair of skimpy blue panties, he felt blood rush straight to his heads. Both of them.