Can't Hardly Breathe (The Original Heartbreakers #4)

Butterflies with razor-sharp wings took flight in her stomach. “A kiss? Just one?” What! Don’t tell me you’re considering this, Dorothea Mathis.

“Just one. Right here, right now,” he repeated huskily.

Well...something short and sweet shouldn’t be a problem. A dry peck, even. Loophole! He’d stated no particulars.

“Are we agreed?” He took a step toward her and, as if reading her mind, said, “It’ll be openmouthed. With tongue.”

Dang him! Shivers danced through her. “How long will it last?” Was that needy tone really hers?

“Ten minutes.”

What! “Ten minutes?” she squeaked. She and Jazz had kissed, stripped, had sex and cuddled in that amount of time. “Five minutes, and that’s my final offer.”

He laughed with masculine appreciation, as if he knew something she didn’t. “Done. Five minutes.” He took another step toward her, then another.

This was happening. This was really happening. “Wait! I meant two minutes.”

“Too late. The deal has been made, the conditions settled. No backing out now.” He stopped, only a whisper away.

Her heart erupted in a crazy rhythm. “What are you going to do with your hands?”

“Now, that’s a real good question, and one you should have asked before we finalized our negotiations.” He rested the hands in question on the wall, caging her in like he’d done the first time she’d come to his room. Obviously he liked being the predator, and making her the prey. She liked it, too. His shoulders were so strong and wide she felt engulfed by him—possessed by him. “I’m going to put them all over you. And I’m going to put my fingers inside you.”

Her panties basically liquefied. “N-no?” A question? Come on! “No.” Better. “Your hands have to stay above my waist.”

Oh, wow. Way to restrict him, Dor.

“Very well.” He rubbed his nose against hers. A reward? Because she’d given him exactly what he’d wanted? Now he had permission to play with her breasts...pinch her nipples...

He set a timer on his watch, saying, “I’m not going to let you short me of a single second.”

“Be honest. You can’t really kiss a woman for five whole minutes. You’d smother her.”

“Let me set the scene for you. We’re going to pretend we’re at school, and the bell’s about to ring.”

How is he feeding my longest-standing fantasies? Her limbs trembled as the rest of her heated.

“I’ll be real careful not to wrinkle your clothes, sweetheart.” Peering at her with eyes on fire with lust, he hovered his face over hers, not touching her, not yet.

She waited, wrapped up in an agony and ecstasy like she’d never known.

Why wasn’t he kissing her already, dang it?

“I don’t care about my clothes,” she told him.

“You don’t care if the other students know what we’ve been doing?”

“The students.” Her shivers returned, redoubled. Heat bloomed in her chest and swiftly spread through the rest of her. Breathing became a chore, her airways restricted, oxygen too thick. Her heart only raced faster. “Yeah, be real careful.”

“Promise.” But still he hovered...

There was anticipation, and there was torture. They’d reached the torture stage.

“Daniel,” she rasped, willing to beg for his kiss.

“There she is.” He pressed his mouth into hers, and she opened eagerly. Somehow, when his tongue brushed against hers, it was a shock to her senses. He was hot, his lips soft, his jaw prickly. The taste of him...mint and...sin? Crack?

He kissed her deeply, dreamily, slow and easy, sweeping her up in the gentlest of storms. A soft summer rain. An exploration.

A delight—but not exactly satisfying when she longed to rip off his clothes.

All too soon, he lifted his head. He was breathing heavily. “We should stop, sweetheart.”

What? No!

“The bell,” he said.

Did his old girlfriends have to attend support groups? Hello, I’m Dorothea, and I’m a Daniel addict. “I’m your English teacher, Mr. Porter.” Warm shivers tracked through her. “I’ll write you a note.”

He chuckled against her lips, gave a little lick. “That’s why you’re my favorite teacher. Just want to make sure you’re giving me the A you promised me.”

“Not if you keep talking.” She wound her arms around him, one hand sinking into the silk of his hair, the other tunneling under the collar of his shirt. Skin-to-skin contact was essential. Absolutely critical to her survival.

“Thea.” With a moan, he swooped down to kiss her again. This time, he deepened the pressure, pressing harder, thrusting his tongue against hers.

Yes! This! This was everything. Time ceased to exist. As she inhaled...exhaled, her nipples puckered and rubbed against his chest. A delicious abrasion that sent waves of pleasure straight to her core, exactly where she wanted his hands.

Where were his hands?

Still beside her temples, she realized. Dang him. Why hadn’t he touched her yet? He had to touch her. It had been so long. Too long. She ached.

“Daniel.” A croak this time. “Mr. Porter. Please.”

Finally! He kneaded her breasts and ran his thumb over the distended crests. She gasped, her nails digging into his scalp and between his shoulder blades in an effort to hold him closer—or to ensure he never got away.

“I know I’m not supposed to wrinkle your clothes, Miss Mathis, but I’m losing my mind here.”

“Daniel,” she repeated, and the tone of the next kiss shifted, becoming a ravenous feasting. “Wrinkle them. Ruin them.”

He bit, sucked and nipped. Staying still wasn’t an option. She rocked her hips against him, creating a notch at the apex of her thighs. A notch he utilized to their mutual satisfaction, sliding his big, scarred hands down her sides to cup her butt.

“Wrap your legs around me. Now.” Before she could obey, he lifted her as if she weighed no more than a cotton puff.

Not once did she consider denying him. As she wrapped her legs around him, he used the wall as leverage, pressing an insistent erection against her core, holding her up. The contact was bliss, rapture...but she hated their clothes, wanted him inside her, filling her, thrusting so deep. She was empty! Need consumed her, drove her. Release...she had to have a release.

He stayed true to their deal, however, his hands exploring only above her waist. Restrictions sucked...sucked... Oh! Yes! He sucked on her bottom lip, at the same time shoving a hand under her shirt. She jolted. His skin—white-hot!

His fingers traced a path up her quivering belly. He kneaded her breasts once again, only this time directly over her bra. Why had she worn one? Never again!

“Do you know how often I’ve fantasized about these plump beauties with the cotton candy nipples?”

“Please,” she said, practically mindless. At the moment, it was the only word she could manage.

He kissed her chin, her jaw, then down the column of her neck, where he sucked on her racing pulse. The pressure inside her continued to build until it was nearly unbearable.

“Please,” she repeated.