Page 86 of Jump on Three
“Can you take off your shirt?” I asked.
He responded by yanking it over his head and tossing it behind him. “Can I take off yours too?”
“Please do.”
I wasn’t quite as smooth in discarding my hoodie, but with his help, we freed me of it, leaving me in a tank and bralette. Though he’d seen me in my bathing suit countless times, his gaze trailed over me with hunger, like my skin was brand-new information to him.
“You can touch me,” I offered.
His eyes found mine. “You can touch me too. Always.”
Though he had my permission, Ivan stayed still, only cupping my hip and kissing my jaw.
Far less patient, I took his permission and ran away with it. His skin had been calling to me for ages. Once I laid my palms on his chest, I sighed with bliss. He was covered in tattoos, which I now knew were flat, but I concentrated on the still-bare patches, trailing my fingertips along the outer edges of the inkless skin. When that wasn’t enough, I lifted my head from the pillow to kiss those same spots.
His hips rocked against my side. The hard ridge of his erection rubbed against me. In the past, and with someone else, I would have panicked, thinking this meant he wanted sex imminently. But after our conversation, I was at ease with him. He did want sex, but not tonight. He was aroused, as was I, but it did not mean we would take this further. And so, I was comfortable kissing his skin and feeling his cock thrusting against me.
“Does this mean you do not like my tattoos?” he asked as I rubbed my lips on the center of his sternum.
“No. I love your tattoos. But this skin hasn’t gotten enough attention. You left it plain, so I’m giving it love.” I pressed a kiss underneath his left pectoral. “I can’t put into words how good your body feels on my lips. Almost as good as dancing with you at Lyot.”
“Those are words, angel.”
The corners of my mouth tipped. “Yes. They are, aren’t they?”
“I like what you’re doing.” He toyed with the hem of my tank. “Can I lift this up?”
“You can. My breasts are really small. I hope you aren’t disappointed.”
“No.” He bunched my shirt beneath my chin and slid his palm over my right breast. “They’re proportionate to you, Evelyn, and you are gorgeous.”
“Those are words too,” I squeezed out of my tight throat. “Good ones.”
He lowered his head to kiss the lacy bottom of my bralette. “So beautiful, angel. I like you in lace.”
“It’s soft. Most lace is too scratchy.”
He rubbed his mouth back and forth over my tightened nipple. “It’s very soft.” He cupped my breast, pushing it toward his mouth. “Can I kiss you here through your bra?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think I would like wet fabric on my skin.”
He started to back off, to move to another part of me, but I caught him by the nape, tugging him back. To show him what I’d really meant, I slipped the strap of my bralette down my free arm and pulled the cup under my breast.
“I would rather you kiss my skin.”
His mouth curved. “I would rather that too.”
Then he dropped to my breast, planting kisses around my nipple. My eyes fluttered closed so I could whittle my concentration down to that one point in my body. When his lips closed over my nipple, I realized I needn’t have bothered. There was no space in my mind for thoughts when it was clouded with pleasure.
Ivan swirled his tongue around my nipple and gently sucked on it until I was the one rocking my hips into him. He was good at this. Perhaps even better than he was at kissing, and he was devastatingly good at that.
He moved to my other breast, sliding the strap off himself. “This one, angel? Can I kiss this breast too?”
“Yes, please. Symmetry makes me happy.”
“I love when you are happy. I will keep you that way.”
He gave both my breasts attention. Kissing and licking one nipple, plucking and rolling the other. It was overwhelming in the right way. The kind I would continually seek out to recapture this floaty euphoria.