Jesse knew Ellie hadn’t planned this, but damned if he could walk away.
Kissing Ellie was like nothing else. She kissed with her entire body, arching against him, her nails digging into his shoulders, her hips moving beneath him.
Jesus!
She turned her head to the side, exposing the delicate skin of her throat. He accepted her gift, licking and nipping the skin just beneath her ear, pressing his lips to the rapid thrum of her pulse. She moaned, the sound sending a jolt of lust straight to his erect cock, the heat between them driving him out of his mind.
One of her hands slid beneath his T-shirt. “I want to feel you.”
He sat up, tore off his flannel shirt, and pulled his T-shirt over his head. Then he pressed her palms to his chest. “Be my guest.”
He saw her pupils darken, felt her shiver, heard her little sigh of pleasure as she explored his pecs, teased his nipples with her thumbs, traced his scars and the tats on his arms with her fingers, then slid her hands over his abs. It turned him on to watch her enjoying the feel of him. Her hands spread sparks over his skin, making his muscles clench. But now it was his turn.
He stretched himself out above her once more, nuzzled her throat, kissing his way down the V-neck of her sweater to that sweet cleavage that had teased him all evening. “I want to touch you, too.”
“Yes.” She wriggled beneath him, trying to get out of her sweater.
He took over, drawing it over her head and dropping it on the floor next to his T-shirt, only to find himself staring at a barrier of white lace that gave him glimpses of the soft, creamy flesh and silky, white bra beneath. Impatient now, he helped her peel off the camisole, but rather than rushing to take off her bra, he bent down and kissed the soft swells of her breasts, tasting her, teasing her, licking that line where soft skin met satin.
Her fingers slid into his hair, her breathing uneven. “Jesse.”
He slid a hand beneath her, found her bra clasp and undid it, then peeled the satin cups away. His cocked jerked at the sight of her breasts—full and round with pale nipples that puckered under his gaze. He took each breast in his hand, squeezed lightly, teasing her areolas with his thumbs. “God, you’re beautiful.”
She shivered. “Do you think so?”
“God, yes.” He lowered his mouth to one pebbled tip.
She gasped, then moaned as he sucked and licked first one nipple and then the other, teasing her with his tongue, tugging on her with his lips. “Oh, God, Jesse, you’re driving me crazy!”
She was writhing beneath him now, her fingers fisting in his hair, the intensity of her response making him even hornier—if that was possible.
“Fuck me, Jesse. Please.”
His heart slammed against his breastbone, lust thrumming through his veins. He felt one moment of pure elation—and then it vanished.
He couldn’t do this. It didn’t matter how much he wanted her. It didn’t matter that the condom was burning a hole in his pocket. She’d had two glasses of wine, and she was still mourning her husband, Crash, a good man.
A man you knew. A man who probably saved your life.
She still wore his ring on her finger for God’s sake.
“Ellie, I don’t think we—”
Her fingers on his fly cut his words short as she made quick work of his zipper, pushed past the waistband of his underwear, and closed her hand around him, gripping him, stroking him.
Oh, hell, it felt good. Damn.
“I can’t do this, Ellie.” What the hell had he just said?
“Wh-what?” Green eyes went wide.
He ran his thumb over the curve of her cheek, tried to explain. “You didn’t invite me over for sex, remember? I can’t do this if it’s going to end up hurting you. I don’t want to be the thing you regret in the morning.”
Chapter 8
Ellie couldn’t sleep, arousal buzzing through every fiber of her body, her mind filled with the taste, feel, and scent of Jesse. Every word he’d said, every touch, every kiss replayed through her mind again and again. Oh, he knew how to kiss, knew how to use his lips and tongue. And his hands…
He’d touched her, and she’d gone nuts. She’d run her hands over him, drinking in the feel of him, the sight of him—chest hair, muscles, tats, scars. She’d forgotten how wonderful it was to be strung out on desire, to burn for a man, to ache for him.
I could kiss you all night.
God, she wished he had! She’d wanted him so badly. Instead, he’d stopped.
I can’t do this if it’s going to end up hurting you.
He’d stopped for her sake. He’d stopped because he’d been afraid it wasn’t what she truly wanted. He’d stopped despite the fact that he’d brought a condom. She’d seen the outline of it in the back pocket of his jeans not long after he’d arrived.
His thoughtfulness had left a warm glow inside her. A man who put a woman’s well-being ahead of his penis—she liked that.
She liked even more what he’d said on his way out the door.