I helped him this time. We yanked it off together. My fingers went to the hem of his t-shirt. “This,” I mimicked. He ripped it off with one hand.
We collided again, both of us frantic to feel the other. My body pressed into his naked chest and I moaned from the feel of it. My arms wound around his neck and I plunged my fingers into the soft tendrils of hair at his nape.
“Nick, I can’t stop,” I whimpered.
“Don’t,” he ordered coarsely. “Don’t stop. Don’t you dare fucking stop.” But then he did.
He pulled back and stared down at me. Even in the darkness, I could see the hunger in his eyes. He looked ready to consume me, to pull me completely into his body until we were one without question. Until I could never separate myself from him again.
I tilted my chin, knowing he would meet me, knowing he couldn’t help himself. Except he didn’t. I tugged on his neck, hoping to bring his mouth to mine, but he kept his distance.
“No.” I sucked in a breath as disappointment ripped through me. I abruptly wanted to cry. But then he said, “Not like this. Not here again.”
In the next second, he swept me into his arms, cradling me against him. I let out a squeak of surprise, grabbing for his neck again as he turned suddenly and headed for the stairs.
“Where are we going?”
“Bed,” he grunted as he took the stairs two at a time. “Our bed.”
My eyes bulged. I didn’t know what to think about that. I felt like I should protest. Hot sex in our entryway, against the wall, that was one thing. We’d done that already. There hadn’t been any consequences.
Er, not many anyway.
But the bed. Our bed? That meant something different… something more.
I was just about to protest or suggest someplace else-like the kitchen table-when his head dipped down and he bit my nipple. I squeaked again, completely taken off guard.
His answering growl did something to my insides. Like melted them completely. His head dropped again and he licked me through my bra, soothing the small sting of pain.
He tripped on the last couple steps and nearly dropped me. He caught me just in time and steadied out, laughing at his clumsiness.
I found myself smiling when he tossed me on our unmade bed. I landed in a tangle of sheets and blankets, bouncing once.
He didn’t waste any time getting back to business. He tugged on my rain boots, throwing them over his shoulders. His palms rubbed a hot path up my thighs and flicked the button of my jeans off.
I watched him in complete fascination. He watched me just as closely. His eyes roamed over my body, eating up every inch of exposed skin. His searing gaze lit me on fire, turned my body into a panting, wanting mess.
I pulled the straps of my bra off myself. I couldn’t wait for him. I wanted him to see me like this. I wanted him to admire all of me. I wanted him to touch me… taste me… and never ever stop.
When I reached around and unclasped my bra, then pulled it from my chest, his breath caught in his chest and he stared at my breasts as if he couldn’t look away, as if he would die if he did.
His mouth descended on my nipple and the moan I let out when his tongue came into contact with my skin was a sound I had never made before. I was sure of it. I had never been this desperate… this needy. I had never needed him so badly before. Needed him like I needed to breathe.
Needed him like I couldn’t live without him or his touch.
Or at least not in a very long time.
After he’d spent equal time with each breast, he stood up slowly, reluctantly. His eyes never left me, even while his hands had to. He worked his jeans off, then his boxer briefs.
He stood before me for a few heart-stopping seconds and it was my turn to take my fill of him. My heart stuttered in my chest and my fingers tingled with anticipation.
Had there ever been a more beautiful man?