Malibu Betrayals by M.K. Meredith Page A

the bed and followed her body down with his.
    “You have no idea how I’ve wanted you.” He groaned next to her ear, rough, desperate, his breath sending shivers down her spine. Or maybe it was his words. She didn’t know. Couldn’t think. Didn’t care.
    His hands explored everywhere. Gripping and dragging along every contour with focused intensity as if afraid at any moment she’d make him stop—as if. He caressed along her jaw, then pressed her breasts together, burying his face in her soft mounds, then down her body to her waist. He grabbed the hem of her shirt, hesitating a moment, holding her gaze, and then pushed it up, baring her stomach. This was it. She’d be bare before him, nothing shielding her, nothing to hide behind. A moment of complete terror swept through her and she tensed, her body ready to bolt even if her head couldn’t keep up.
    “Easy,” he whispered.
    Easy…that’s right. Light and easy. This is for you, Sam. The thought steadied her, but once they did this, there was no going back; this moment, now, was the point of no return.
    Looking into the desperate heat of his eyes, she saw all of her pent-up desire and need mirrored there. She wasn’t in this alone. It was time to start trusting herself.
    Decision made, she lifted to help get her top up and over her head.
    He released a gust of breath and a low groan that told her more about his desires than any words would have. Without pause, her bra followed; he paused and stared at her. “Goddamn, you’re beautiful.”
    The wet heat of his mouth around one nipple, then the other shocked her right out of herself and into the present as she arched up, pressing closer.
    Wanting to feel him, taste him, she yanked his shirt over his head, then pulled him down to feel the hard planes of his chest against her breasts. “Oh. My. God.”
    “We haven’t even started, and there is no way I’m rushing something I’ve waited so long for.” He slid down the bed, taking her slacks and panties from her waist. He returned, towering over her, his eyes glinting from the firelight—they looked almost clear the way they glowed. She stretched her arms over her head, streamlining her tall form to show its best angle, enticing him to hurry.
    His gaze intensified as he unbuckled his belt, the muscles clenching in his jaw.
    How many beautiful bodies had shared this bed? And how long ago—a week, yesterday? Not now, not tonight. They didn’t matter. She focused once more on the intensity of his gaze. Besides, a look like that promised no other woman was in his head or bed but her.
    He unbuckled his belt before pushing his pants and boxer briefs to the ground, never looking away. The length of him jutting out, long and hard and thick. Her mouth watered.
    She sat up and reached for him, but he caught her hands, pushed them above her head, and pressed her back onto the bed. She would have lain on a bed of nails. Wanting nothing more but to touch him, taste him, feel him inside of her—finally. She might not have ever said the words aloud, but she’d wanted to since the night they’d met.
    His long, heavy form covered her with a delicious weight. His clever hands finding her everywhere, the mound of her breasts, the dip of her collarbone, the long length from under her shoulder to her hip. A firestorm of want and need rushed through her. She spread her legs and wrapped them around him, tightening her grip and rubbing against his length.
    “Now.” She all but whimpered and didn’t care. She couldn’t wait. She’d already waited too long.
    “No.”
    He took her mouth again and then trailed his tongue down her neck and over one breast to her nipple. Her body screamed for speed. But he wouldn’t be hurried, and his hands massaged with a gentle, almost feather-light touch. She wanted him to grab, to demand. She pushed against his hands to increase the pressure—to relieve the intensity. She’d lose her mind.
    He wouldn’t let her.
    His tongue continued