Page 64 of Stolen Dreams
Fisting his shirt, I part my lips and let him in. Taste him for the second time tonight. Twirl my tongue with his and melt when he moans into the kiss.
Goose bumps dance over my skin as his fingers trail my jaw, my pulse point, the nape of my neck, before curling in my hair. At his mercy, he tilts my head the other way, fists my hair harder, plunges his tongue deeper. I take everything he gives me and silently beg for more.
With a yank of his shirt, I haul him closer. Moan unabashedly as his lips flutter over my jaw, the shell of my ear, the length of my throat.He feels it, doesn’t he?My pulse throbbing under hislips. My fevered skin on his tongue. How desperate I am for air as he licks the length of my collarbone.
Head tipped back, I open my mouth to tell him I need more—of his lips, his taste, his touch—but the words die on my tongue. A shiver rolls through me as he pulls away. Confusion knits my brow as mortification eases in. I drop my chin to my chest, swallow, and keep my eyes shut.
Is he having second thoughts? Does he think this is a mistake?
God, I hope not.
“Look at me, Fire Eyes.” His voice is a seductive caress, a delicious plea.
On a shaky inhale, I ease my eyes open and meet his waiting gaze. Undiluted hunger shimmers in those dark irises. Unfiltered lust stares back, begging to be satiated. But the longer I stare, the more I realize that’s not all. Past the carnality lies something… deeper. Softer. Significant. An emotion neither of us should disregard.
Apprehension.
Gaze locked with his, I lift a hand to his face. Stroke the scruff on his jaw. Caress the apple of his cheek.
His eyes roll closed as he leans into my touch. Then he twists to kiss the heart of my palm. So tender and a complete juxtaposition to the man kissing me a moment ago.
I like how romantic and kindhearted he is one moment, and libidinous and urgent the next. I like that he doesn’t hide who he is from me, that he shows me sides of himself not everyone gets to see. His vulnerable side.
My thumb traces his bottom lip, my eyes following the action. “What’s wrong?”
He kisses the pad of my thumb. “Need you to know I have no expectations tonight.”
My gaze flits to his and holds it. “Me either.”
“I dream about us, though.” His hand on the nape of my neck flexes. “How good we’d be together.”
Adrenaline races through my veins as an ache blooms low in my belly. Suddenly, my skin is too hot. My clothes too tight. I swallow past the pulsing swell in my throat. “Me too,” I admit, voice dry, breathy.
Hunger swirls in his dark irises as they dart between mine, a litany of questions lingering in the air. But he doesn’t ask a single one. Instead, he rises from the couch with my hand still in his. “Come with me?”
With a stilted nod, I tighten my hold on him and push up on unsteady legs. “Yes.”
Ray guides me through the house to the stairs, our pace unhurried. One foot in front of the other, we ascend. Thrill swirls in my belly with each step. Desire pools between my thighs as we hit the landing. Hand in hand, we enter his bedroom. He closes the door behind us, the gentle snick of the latch deafening.
Golden light filters through the room and highlights a massive bed in the middle, fluffy pillows at the head, a tufted bench at the foot. An accent wall behind the headboard, as well as the wide floorboards, stained a rich brown. Cream floor-to-ceiling curtains cover the far wall and shield what I’m sure is a spectacular view of the mountains. The occasional pop from black, brass, and ivory fixtures and decor offsetting the rich, earthy tones.
As I survey the rest of the room, I feel him at my back. His heat. Every inch of his broad, muscled frame molded to the length of mine. His strong, capable hands curl around my hips. His nose dives into my hair, inhaling deeply, a faint growl vibrating his chest.
On a shudder, my eyes roll shut.
Humming, his grip on my hips softens. Inch by slow, tempting inch, his fingertips flutter up my forearms, my biceps,along my collarbones. My body quivers under his touch. Cries out for more as he sweeps my hair off my shoulders.
His breaths a warm staccato at my ear, I gasp. And for a beat, time stands still. Neither of us moves. But as quickly as it stopped, time speeds back up.
He shifts his hips and pins his impressive length firmly to my lower back. Hisses between his teeth as his hands drift down, down, down the outer swell of my breasts, the dip of my waist. When he reaches the flare of my hips, his grip turns bruising. His fingers flex and knead once, twice, and then haul me back until nothing exists but him.
Every delicious, solid inch of him pressed to me, he drops his lips to the curve of my shoulder. “I want you, Fire Eyes.” He peppers kisses up the length of my neck until he reaches the sensitive spot beneath my ear. “God, I fuckingneedyou.”
The last of my restraint snaps.
Maybe it’s the heat of him at my back, his hands in all the right places, or the sheer lust in his voice. Maybe it’s all the above. Either way, it shatters my self-control.
I spin around, push up on my toes, and claim his mouth. Lick the seam of his lips and suck the bottom one with unfettered hunger. Devour his moans as he opens for me and meets me stroke for stroke. Relish in the fire that burns brighter, hotter between us as he kneads my curves and shapes my body with his in a new way.