Chapter Twenty Five
Lizzie felt hot and cold all at once. He wanted her? Even though she was in a grungy bathrobe, hair a fright? He dipped down then and kissed her, and every single one of her insecurities flew away. He was so…tall. She put her hands on his shoulders and could feel the muscles beneath his flight suit. She felt heat rushing from her toes to her scalp. He put his hand on her lower back and pulled her to him. That’s when she remembered the back of the Lincoln: his talented hands, his rock-hard thickness. Now she felt it again against her stomach. He was ready for her—so very ready.
His tongue found hers and he deepened the kiss, exploring her mouth deliberately, methodically, a man on a mission. God, she loved the taste of him and wanted more, so much more. She tore at his flight suit, and soon the top half was off, revealing a gray tank top and bulging arm muscles. Even as their lips stayed entwined, she felt the impressive bulges of his strong arms. The man had so many muscles; they rippled as he gently steered her towards the couch in her living room. They weren’t even going to make it to her bedroom, she realized. And she was just fine with that.
Her robe fell open and his hands were there, stroking her small waist, and moving upward to her now-bare breasts. He cupped one and then the other, breaking free of her mouth long enough to dip down and flick his tongue across each nipple. She moaned as he fell backward into the couch. He kicked off his flight suit and ripped off his undershirt, revealing row upon row of impressive abs. He had a condom in his hand.
“Is this what you want?” he asked her.
“Oh, yes,” she said and nodded. She wanted him, all of him.
“Not yet,” he teased, and kneeled down, as if ready to worship her.
“I want to taste every part of you,” he growled, and before she could stop him, he’d buried his face between her knees.