Cannon smiled against my lips, in no rush to claim his prize. Maybe because he knew it was already his. Maybe because, unlike most men, he understood the virtues of slowing down. We both wanted this, but delaying gratification would make it that much better when we did finally get there.
Slowly, his lips moved against mine, parting so our tongues could tentatively touch. It was electric. Deepening the kiss, his mouth fused over mine, taking all I had to give. His hand cradled my jaw, his tongue tasted of wine, and I realized I’d never been kissed like this. So possessively. So completely. I was hardly inexperienced . . . but whatever I’d been doing before, I couldn’t call it real kissing anymore. With careful licks against my tongue, Cannon taught me how to kiss all over again.
Holy shit! I’m making out with Cannon Roth. This should have felt strange and utterly foreign. My brain should have been screaming Abort! Abort! Instead, it was the most natural thing in the world. Our tongues moved together as though they’d spent years training for this exact moment. Lust mixed with pleasure rolled through my veins.
Pulling back a few inches, he smirked at me again. “You still with me?”
Eagerly, I nodded, drugged with my desire for him. If he could make me feel this out of control from one kiss, I was almost scared to find out what the rest of the night had in store.
He placed my hand against the bulge in his pants. It was hot and hard, and made my insides clench. “Do you feel that, Paige?”
I swallowed a groan. He felt so warm and solid beneath my palm. “Y-yes.”
“Do you want me inside you?” he murmured, trailing kisses up my neck while I continued rubbing his erection through his jeans.
“God, yes.”
His warm, silky chuckle vibrated against my skin. “Good, because I’ve wanted to fuck you since I was sixteen years old. But tonight’s not about me. I’m going to make sure this is good for you. Do you want that?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“Then you need to trust me.”
For a second, I wondered if I could do that. Totally give over control? I was an independent woman, and what if he was into some kinky stuff? I pushed the thoughts away. I would suspend judgment . . . for now.
“I do trust you.”
“Good girl.” His lips met mine once again, kissing me until my body pulsed in a lustful frenzy. After a few moments, he broke away. Reluctantly, I pulled my hand away from his cock and opened my eyes.
“Are you absolutely sure you want to do this? If my track record is any indication, this won’t end well.”
To my wine-buzzed, lust-clouded brain, his warning to stay away was about as effective as one of those “enter only if you’re eighteen” notices on a porn site.
“I want this. I want you.” I looked right into his emerald-colored eyes as I spoke, hoping he could feel the sheer desire in my voice.
“Then let’s take this to the bedroom.”
Rising from the couch, I followed him down the hall. “Is that why you got the bed?”
“Yes. That, and I didn’t exactly fit on the futon.”
My heart pounded as we entered his bedroom. He’d made up the massive king-sized bed with new sheets, and his masculine scent hung in the air all around us.
“Turn around,” he murmured.
I faced the full-length mirror that was mounted on the wall as Cannon stood behind me. The room was cast in shadows, but there was enough light to watch his large hands move up my sides, over my hips, my waist, all the way up until he lifted my hair from my shoulder, then placed a tender kiss at the base of my neck. Little chill bumps erupted, dancing down my spine.
Transfixed, I watched his hands move from my neck to my shoulders, down to cup my achy breasts.
My breathing went shallow as his fingertips traced my nipples.
“You have beautiful breasts, Paige.”
His thumbs grazed the firm peaks of my nipples, and I sucked in a breath.
“You like your nipples stimulated?”
I arched my back in reply, leaning my head against his chest, pushing my breasts forward into his hands.
“Good to know, princess.” He kissed the side of my neck. “I’d love to fuck these pretty tits sometime.”
He pulled my shirt off over my head and let it drop to the floor. My chest heaved as he unfastened my bra and dropped it next to my shirt. In the mirror, a topless me stood against the backdrop of Cannon’s broad, muscled body. His fingers, strong and certain, traced up my rib cage as I watched.
If I’d thought it felt good before, his large, warm palms against the naked flesh of my breasts was almost too much. My breath shuddered, and sparks zinged straight from my nipples to between my legs. But Cannon didn’t torture me for long. His eyes were dark and hooded as his hands moved lower, sliding inside the front of my pants, into my underwear.
I gasped at the very welcome invasion. His fingers made contact with my slick flesh, and I bit back a moan.
“No,” he said. “Don’t hold back. Let me hear you.”
He stroked me again, making feather-soft circles against my clit, and I whimpered in pleasure, both relieved that the wait was over and impatient for more.