Her nipple pebbled against his fingertip, and they both groaned. Anticipation of how she’d taste made his mouth water and he caught himself licking his lips.
“Morgan,” she moaned.
He pulled his finger back, rising to kneel in front of her. She was so tiny here, on her knees. He reached for the hook at her waist. The zipper slid down easily, slowly, not silently. As if announcing his arrival.
Rather than pushing the pants down, getting rid of the barrier, he instead slid his hand inside. Dear heaven, her skin was so hot. He slid lower, over the soft curls, and touched what he wanted to possess.
She was wet. So very wet. For him.
Carefully, he stroked her, watching as her eyelids drifted closed, and she leaned against his arm crossing her back, her covered breasts begging for him.
“Take it off,” he croaked. “I have to taste you.”
Without him moving either hand, Tara managed to reach around and unhook the dainty bra. Gravity helped pull it away, showing him the sweet curves, and the pale pink nipples, ready and waiting for him.
He quickened his finger’s stroke and her breath came faster, harsher. “Please—” she cried out, nearly cresting the wave.
“Please what, babe?” he whispered, finally dipping his head to take one distended nipple deep into his mouth. At the same instant, he inched his finger deeper. Then deeper still until her cry of release dissolved into quick hot spasms. He let her fly, drinking in every sweet drop.
* * *
SHE’D JUST COME apart in his hands. She should be embarrassed. She wasn’t. Not even close. Slowly lifting her eyelids, Tara looked into Morgan’s smile. And smiled back.
She reached up, pulling his lips to hers, and pushed herself closer. All those glorious male muscles felt like heaven against her bare breasts.
Morgan slid his hands to her hips, against her skin, sliding the rest of her clothing off, down over her legs as he laid her back. Stretched out, she felt his gaze trail over every inch of her.
“Beautiful,” he whispered.
“And you’re too dressed.”
“And it’s going to stay that way.” His smile dimmed only slightly.
“No condoms, baby.” He shrugged. “And I didn’t see you bring a purse or anything with you.”
“I—” Now she was embarrassed. She was thinking like a clueless teenager. “I didn’t intend—”
“I know. It’s no problem.” Morgan put a finger over her lips to stop the next excuse she’d come up with. “I don’t take chances. I knew before we started this. So, lie back and relax.”
“But, Morgan—” She tried to sit up, tried to reach for him.
“I can take care of that, too.” He leaned down and silenced her with a kiss that took her sanity along with her next words.
He stretched out beside her, his big frame taking up most of the space. It didn’t matter as he pulled her to lie beside him, her head on his shoulder.
His hands slid up and down her back, over her curves, cupping her ass possessively, then up to feather over her ribs. His touch relaxed her, and she felt herself drifting nearly to sleep.
She tried to resist touching him, really she did. She didn’t want to be a cruel tease, but her fingers itched to feel his skin.
Slowly, tentatively, she rubbed her fingertips in the shallow valley at his breastbone, then she trailed down to the hard ridges gracing his abdomen. Soft strands of hair tickled her fingertips, the trail leading to the waistband of the pants he’d left on. To protect her.
She played until a soft moan escaped him. Glancing up, she saw that he’d clenched his jaw and had his eyes closed tight. “Morgan. Let me…” She stumbled over the words. Instead, she slid her hand down to the fly of his jeans. The hard, hot ridge of his erection throbbed even through the thick material. “Let me touch you. Like you touched me.”
She looked at his face again. His eyes were open, heat pouring out of them, scorching her. She ached where he’d touched her before.
She couldn’t look away but found her way by touch. The metal closure resisted her insistent touch. When he reached down to help, she thought she might lose it then and there. The fabric parted and she had to experience all of him. She looked down.