to his promise not to touch her.
“You taste good,” she whispered.
He tried to recapture her mouth with his, but she settled firmly in his lap and leaned back to unbutton her shirt. His eyes glittered and he thrust his hips, rubbing himself against her. She had to clutch his shoulder for balance, abandoning the shirt half-buttoned.
It was wicked the way he made her feel. She pulsed and ached, and the torment of his big body moving under hers only made it worse.
“If I hold you, you can finish unbuttoning your shirt. I’d like to see your breasts.”
She looked down at them. Their full swell was shadowed, the nipples just hidden. If Andrew would only stop moving, stop exciting her, she could think. She gave him the truth.
“I want to rub my bare breasts against your chest.”
He shuddered to a stop. “Do it.”
She ripped the remaining buttons and shrugged the shirt off. The air was cool but the heat coming off Andrew’s body scorched her. She knelt up, put her hands around his neck and dragged her nipples up his chest and through the slight abrasion of his chest hair. Back and forth. The exquisite sensation mesmerized her.
Andrew tipped his head back as he strained for control.
She hesitated. She felt powerful and wild, wanted. It let her give him permission.
“Touch me, Andrew. Please.”
Color burned the skin over his cheekbones. His large hands closed on her hips and locked her against him. Even through the layers of clothing she felt his arousal. He was hard, hot and massively ready. She rocked forward and his hands tightened. Then they slid up her body, from the thick cotton of her black breeches to her naked skin, up along her waist, with his thumbs skimming inward and then reaching her breasts.
He cherished her breasts, cupping their fullness and caressing the sensitive nipples with agonizing thoroughness till she panted and begged for him.
“Yes.” He pulled her up and his mouth closed hungrily over her breast. He sucked strongly and her whole body contracted before exploding.
She was dimly aware of being lifted and settled sideways on his lap. Slow strokes of his hand over her stomach and breasts drew her back and her mind crept out of its pleasure-dazed fog to the realization that she was being cuddled and petted, and she liked it.
“Andrew.” Her fingers traced his square jaw and threaded into his hair.
He nuzzled into the caress. One hand splayed possessively over her stomach.
“Thank you, Cali.”
“For what?” She was the one who should be thanking him. Her body was simultaneously light and heavy with satisfaction. She could rest in his arms forever.
“For trusting me.”
Her languid contentment faltered.
“You climaxed in my arms as I watched. Only being inside you could be better than that.”
He kissed her fiercely while Cali fought the internal tremors at the thought of a shared climax. She would hold him tight, take him deep. But trust was a word and concept that had been abused in her life. Men used her.
Cold flowed from her heart to her veins even as Andrew caressed her breasts and throat and felt the hectic pulse of her blood.
When he released her lips, she said, “You didn’t get any satisfaction. Do you want my help to climax?”
There was an endless moment of shock and silence, and then he put her away from him. “You don’t owe me anything, Cali. This isn’t a transaction. Your trust honored me. Your pleasure delighted me.”
She wriggled off his lap and stooped for her shirt.
“Regrets?” The bitten-off word held his anger and bewilderment. “You were with me, love.”
She shook her head, pulling on the white linen shirt and wrapping it around her.
“You were.” He stood.
The impact of his maleness had her fighting not to retreat, and fighting not to throw herself at him and claim total possession.
“I can’t let myself trust you,” she said painfully.
He stared at her for a fraught ten seconds, time enough for them both to remember how
“You taste good,” she whispered.
He tried to recapture her mouth with his, but she settled firmly in his lap and leaned back to unbutton her shirt. His eyes glittered and he thrust his hips, rubbing himself against her. She had to clutch his shoulder for balance, abandoning the shirt half-buttoned.
It was wicked the way he made her feel. She pulsed and ached, and the torment of his big body moving under hers only made it worse.
“If I hold you, you can finish unbuttoning your shirt. I’d like to see your breasts.”
She looked down at them. Their full swell was shadowed, the nipples just hidden. If Andrew would only stop moving, stop exciting her, she could think. She gave him the truth.
“I want to rub my bare breasts against your chest.”
He shuddered to a stop. “Do it.”
She ripped the remaining buttons and shrugged the shirt off. The air was cool but the heat coming off Andrew’s body scorched her. She knelt up, put her hands around his neck and dragged her nipples up his chest and through the slight abrasion of his chest hair. Back and forth. The exquisite sensation mesmerized her.
Andrew tipped his head back as he strained for control.
She hesitated. She felt powerful and wild, wanted. It let her give him permission.
“Touch me, Andrew. Please.”
Color burned the skin over his cheekbones. His large hands closed on her hips and locked her against him. Even through the layers of clothing she felt his arousal. He was hard, hot and massively ready. She rocked forward and his hands tightened. Then they slid up her body, from the thick cotton of her black breeches to her naked skin, up along her waist, with his thumbs skimming inward and then reaching her breasts.
He cherished her breasts, cupping their fullness and caressing the sensitive nipples with agonizing thoroughness till she panted and begged for him.
“Yes.” He pulled her up and his mouth closed hungrily over her breast. He sucked strongly and her whole body contracted before exploding.
She was dimly aware of being lifted and settled sideways on his lap. Slow strokes of his hand over her stomach and breasts drew her back and her mind crept out of its pleasure-dazed fog to the realization that she was being cuddled and petted, and she liked it.
“Andrew.” Her fingers traced his square jaw and threaded into his hair.
He nuzzled into the caress. One hand splayed possessively over her stomach.
“Thank you, Cali.”
“For what?” She was the one who should be thanking him. Her body was simultaneously light and heavy with satisfaction. She could rest in his arms forever.
“For trusting me.”
Her languid contentment faltered.
“You climaxed in my arms as I watched. Only being inside you could be better than that.”
He kissed her fiercely while Cali fought the internal tremors at the thought of a shared climax. She would hold him tight, take him deep. But trust was a word and concept that had been abused in her life. Men used her.
Cold flowed from her heart to her veins even as Andrew caressed her breasts and throat and felt the hectic pulse of her blood.
When he released her lips, she said, “You didn’t get any satisfaction. Do you want my help to climax?”
There was an endless moment of shock and silence, and then he put her away from him. “You don’t owe me anything, Cali. This isn’t a transaction. Your trust honored me. Your pleasure delighted me.”
She wriggled off his lap and stooped for her shirt.
“Regrets?” The bitten-off word held his anger and bewilderment. “You were with me, love.”
She shook her head, pulling on the white linen shirt and wrapping it around her.
“You were.” He stood.
The impact of his maleness had her fighting not to retreat, and fighting not to throw herself at him and claim total possession.
“I can’t let myself trust you,” she said painfully.
He stared at her for a fraught ten seconds, time enough for them both to remember how
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