"Should I apologize?” she had asked him tentatively.
“I should.” He had turned his head, his hot gaze seeming to memorize what had to be pink cheeks and glassy eyes. “But my only regret is that we have to stop. Can I at least see...?” He reached to release her hair. “I’ve been wondering how long it is.”
She smiled faintly and drew the clip from her hair, then fanned the dark copper mass with her splayed fingers, showing him how the waves fell to her breasts.
“Beautiful,” he muttered, filling his hand and burying his face in the mass.
She wound both arms around his neck, fell into him so he was knocked onto his back, half in the rain, her hair falling around his face.
And she had told him the truth. “I don’t want to stop.”
In an athletic twist, he rolled her beneath him. “We don’t have to go all the way. But I really want to touch you. See you.”
He was heavy and strong and virile. Bold in the way he lifted to gaze down her front, yet tender in the way he slowly opened her shirt, sending frequent glances into her eyes to make the experience both intimate, yet mutual. He wanted this to be something she wanted, and she did.
When he opened her shirt, he did it slowly, drawing out the anticipation until she wanted to scream. She released the front closure on her bra herself, swelling with feminine power when he drew in a sharp breath and ate up her curves with an avid, greedy smile.
But just as he’d upended her by rolling her beneath him, he quickly overturned her command of the moment by taking her turgid nipple into his mouth. Pleasure, knife-like and sharp, streaked through her, jabbing a hot, joyous sensation into her loins. She clenched as heat flooded there. She writhed, almost overcome by the intensity.
His arms hardened, holding her for his thorough teasing, driving her crazy until she grabbed handfuls of his hair and brought him back to kissing her.
He slid fully atop her, legs between hers so they were grinding their hips in mock lovemaking. She had never gone this far. Why not? It was sheer magic to feel the hard ridge of him rubbing her tender flesh through the layers of their clothes. Erotic and exciting and insanely arousing.
“Ben,” she gasped, trying to find words she didn’t know how to say. “I want more. I want everything.”
“I’ll have to pull out,” he said against her mouth.
She nodded, only vaguely aware what he was suggesting, but if it meant they could keep doing this, she wanted it.
He reared onto his knees, tore off his shirt and opened his pants.
Oh, that chest. Wide shoulders, thickly muscled pecs and washboard abs sprinkled with a light layer of hair that dipped into the loose, open fly of his trousers.
He chucked his chin at her in an invitation to strip. She opened her pants and pushed them off her hips, lifting and helping as he took her underpants, too. She still wore her shirt and bra, both hanging off her shoulders, bare thighs falling across his.
Nostrils flared, he lightly petted her. The moment was so intensely intimate, she bent her knees and would have closed her legs, but he murmured something in a reassuring tone and settled over her.
As the heat of his chest blanketed her quivering breasts, his touch between her legs explored with more purpose, finding the hidden knot of nerves that made her jolt with sensation.
“Do you want to stop?” he asked against her mouth.
“Never,” she breathed.
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