A Rare Gift by Jaci Burton Page A

light switch and flipped it on, then settled her in the middle of her bed, coming down on top of her, his mouth taking hers again in a kiss that made her writhe with impatience. She wanted clothes off, needed to feel his bare skin against hers. She reached between them, pulling at his shirt.
    He lifted, straddling her, and unbuttoned his shirt. She laid her hands on his thighs and watched as he pulled the flannel shirt off and the T-shirt underneath, leaving his torso bare.
    She sucked in a breath. Wide shoulders, well-muscled chest and arms, and flat, washboard abs, not from time spent at the gym, she imagined, but from honest-to-God labor. She snaked her hands along his stomach and farther down, where a soft line of hair disappeared into his jeans. She reached for his belt buckle but he snatched her hands away and placed them on the bed.
    “But you’re not naked yet.”
    “I’ll get there.” He lifted her sweatshirt over her stomach, leaned down and pressed a kiss to her belly.
    His lips on her skin were just as flame-inducing as his kisses. She wondered if spontaneous combustion was possible. She’d really hate to set him on fire, especially before they had sex. But seeing his mouth on her stomach as he gradually lifted her shirt and mapped his way north made her heart pound so hard she was sure he could hear it. She knew he had to feel it, because it ricocheted throughout her body.
    “Lift,” he said, and she arched enough so he could pull the shirt over her head.
    His lips curved, and he laid his hand over one of her breasts, covered only by the flimsy, discount-store purchased bra. Dammit, if she’d known she was going to have sex with Wyatt tonight she’d have put her more expensive lingerie on. She made a mental note to drag out the hot lingerie, so she’d be prepared for future events. And there would be future events, because every touch of his fingers and hands to her body was like she’d never been touched before. Her nipples peaked and hardened while she panted like the woman in heat she was. He brushed a thumb over the bra and she arched against him.
    “Tell me what you want.”
    She lifted her gaze to his, saw the intensity, the hunger and need there. Yup. He was going to set her on fire before the night was over. “I want your hands and your mouth on me.”
    He reached under her and lifted her, undid the clasp in an instant and drew the straps down her shoulders, then laid her back down. He stared at her, not moving to touch her.
    “You’re beautiful, Calliope.”
    A heated flush spread over her body as he continued to look down on her like she was some goddess or something. She’d never thought herself particularly breathtaking, but she wasn’t hideous, either. She was pretty in an average sort of way. She kept her body in shape—God knew running after kids burned a lot of calories. But her sister was the real beauty in the family, and Wyatt had been married to her.
    Yet as his gaze burned into hers and she saw the lust in his eyes, the pure male appreciation, she knew then he wasn’t comparing her to Cassandra. The desire he felt was for her.
    She reached up and swept her hand across his jaw, tingling at the sensation of his beard tickling her palm.
    “I think you’re pretty hot, too, Wyatt.”
    He cupped her breast, then bent and took a nipple in his mouth. She sighed at the sheer pleasure of it, watched as he sucked her nipple, licked it, teased it with his tongue. Sensation shot south and she bit down on her lip to keep from whimpering. It had been an embarrassingly long time since she’d been with a guy.
    Boys, really. That’s what they’d been, while Wyatt was a man. A man who knew his way around a woman’s body. A man with infinite patience. This wasn’t about quickly stripping her clothes off so he could get right to the action. He worshipped her body, licking her nipples, teasing her into an absolute frenzy of passion until she was mindless, breathless and writhing without