Page 50 of Words of Love

“Like I want to kiss you again.”

Anticipation sparked through her. A smile tugged at her lips. “That’s what you want, not how you feel.”

“I feel like I want to kiss you again.” He leaned closer, slipping his gaze to her mouth, and the rest of their surroundings faded from her vision.

“Still what you want,” she whispered.

“Ifeel…,” he closed the distance and brought their lips together, “good.”

A light surged underneath her heart. He slid his hand to her lower back, urging her closer and fitting their bodies together. Everything inside her weakened at the sensation of his muscular frame pressing against hers.

He rolled them both so she was lying back against the pillows and he was hovering over her, big and heavy. She gripped his shoulders and arched up against him. He kissed her thoroughly, sliding his tongue over hers, licking the corners of her mouth as if he wanted to devour her. She ran her hands over his chest, her heart hammering wildly at the thought of what he looked like naked. Fully clothed, his body was a work of art. Naked, he must be…mind-blowing.

“You…” he pressed kisses in a hot trail over her cheek to her ear, “feel incredible.”

He planted one hand beside her head and rested the other on her belly, edging his fingers just under the hem of her T-shirt. Her heart skipped a thousand beats. His palm was warm and slightly callused against her bare skin as he stroked upward. He cupped her breast and edged his knee between her thighs.

With a quick intake of breath, she brushed her fingers against the growing hardness in his pants. Desire unfurled like a ribbon through her blood.

He lifted his head suddenly, his breath heavy. A palpable restraint tensed his shoulders. “Didn’t mean to go this far. I’m sorry.”

“Hey.” She fisted her hand in his shirt. “You saysorrywhen you make a mistake. Consensual kissing and touching isn’t a mistake. At least, not in my world.”

His eyes darkened. “I don’t live in your world.”

“You should come for a visit, then.” She arched an eyebrow. “The weather’s mostly sunny.”

Faint amusement lit in his expression as he tugged a lock of her hair. “From where I’m sitting, the weather’s always beautiful.”

“Aw.” She smiled and brushed her fingers across his jaw. “You might be a teensy bit romantic after all.”

“Don’t count on it.”

“I’m not an optimist for nothing.”

She tugged him closer, and he kissed her again. The tension eased from his muscles. She fell into a slippage of time and space, where nothing existed but the press of their lips and increasingly eager, curious explorations. She lifted her arms and let him take off her shirt, then wiggled out of her pajama pants. He groaned, raking his hot gaze possessively over her bare body, and a thrill of feminine power shot through her.

“Your turn.” She grasped his shirt and tugged.

He eased away from her only long enough to pull his shirt off.

She parted her lips in astonishment. His chest was a sculpted landscape of hard planes and ridges sloping down to taut, washboard abs and that V of muscles that she’d only ever seen on men in underwear ads. The firelight gleamed off his broad shoulders, creating a bronze glow that made him look otherworldly.

“Good lord,” she murmured. “You’re like…Thor.”

He gave a self-deprecating laugh and planted his hands on either side of her. “If I’m Thor, then you’re Venus or Aphrodite, and that’s mixing up mythologies. Let’s just be us.”

“Yes.” She drove her fingers into his hair, pulling him down to her and pressing her lips to his. “Sam.”

“Brooke.” He sounded as if he were savoring the taste of her name in his mouth.

Their kiss grew hotter, deeper. He glided his hands over her as if he already knew exactly where she liked to be touched. He whispered his awe against her skin, dipped his tongue into her bellybutton, caressed her thighs. Fireworks sparked and flared inside her.

Though some distant part of her mind was shocked by the ease of such intimacy—certainly she’d never done anything like this in a blanket fort before—she felt as if they’d been converging toward this moment for months.

She managed to muster up a smidgen of strength to pause his sensual ministrations so that she could indulge in some explorations of her own. After urging him to lie on his back, she straddled his thighs and ran her fingertips across the powerful band of muscles lacing his abdomen. With unhidden fascination, she curved her palms over his biceps, stroked his smooth shoulders, watched the flex and pull of his pectorals as he shifted underneath her with barely leashed restraint.

He gripped her hips. His eyes were dark with lust. She squirmed. Her pulse pounded at the sensation of his considerable arousal throbbing against his pants. She cupped her hand over the heavy length. Her belly tightened with sudden anxiety.