Page 48 of A Touch of Crimson
“Thank you,” he whispered, before licking into her mouth.
A low whimper escaped her. He moved his head slowly, from side to side, sliding his parted lips back and forth across hers. His fingers pushed into her hair and kneaded her scalp.
Heated delight coursed through her, permeating her overeager body and soothing her frantic desire. Growing languid under the surprisingly delicate onslaught of his mouth, she reached for his lean hips, pulling him closer.
“Stay out of my head,” she warned.
“It’s not your head I want to get into right now.”
The feel of his cock against her belly, still hard as steel, made her breath catch. Adrian breathed into her mouth, filling her lungs with air from his own. The intimacy was more potent than his fingers sliding down and across her shoulders, pushing aside the thin straps of her camisole. Her back arched, offering her breasts.
In her mind, she knew it was wrong to be this way with Adrian. She knew she had to stop, that she had to make him stop. Her hands fell away, her palms pressing flat against the wall. But the feel of his touch on her bare skin, his fingertips following the line of her waistband before slipping beneath her top, was sublime…so perfect…
She gasped out a laugh, her stomach concaving to flee his questing fingers.
His beautiful lips curved against her mouth. “You’re ticklish.”
Adrian’s delight was palpable, reverberating through her and shaking her resolve. He gripped her waist and tugged her into an exuberant embrace.
Oh god…she couldn’t take him like this. Sensual. Playful. His brilliant eyes were no longer stormy but lit with joy—because of her. It was a level of intimacy she didn’t know, had never experienced in her previous brief sexual encounters. She hadn’t known what she was missing…
“Adrian.”
“Hmm…?” He kissed her temple, then moved lower, to her ear. “Where else are you ticklish, Linds?”
“We—” The flick of his tongue along the shell of her ear made her shiver. Her hands fisted. “W-we shouldn’t be doing this.”
“You don’t have to do anything,” he purred, cupping her swollen, tender breasts.
A low moan escaped her. She turned her face toward the wall of windows beside them. The sun was shining brightly, sparkling through the rain droplets clinging to the glass—a reflection of his mood and how she’d lightened it.
He caught her nipples between thumb and forefinger, tugging lightly. “Such tiny, delicate nipples for such lush breasts. I’m going to tongue them until you come.”
Her hips thrust forward without her volition, her sex clenching in greedy demand. “For a virgin”—she gasped—“you’re damn good at seduction.”
Adrian paused, his cerulean eyes glittering with amusement. “You think I’m virginal?”
“Are you saying you’ve done this before?” Jealousy ate at her, cooling her blood. “I thought you’d grow fangs if you got some.”
His mouth curved in a purely male smile. “There’s only you, neshama. You alone bring out this side of me.”
She had no idea what he’d just called her, but it struck a deep chord with her, and the way his voice sounded when he said it gave her butterflies. “Adrian… Shit. I’m going to burn in hell for this.”
“For leaning against a wall?” He licked erotically into her ear. “No, you won’t.”
“I’m trying to do the right thing,” she protested, even as she couldn’t seem to find the will to push him away. Not when one of his wickedly talented hands was sliding into her pants while the other was pushing up her camisole and baring her chest.
“This was inevitable. We are inevitable.” His gaze lifted to look into her dazed eyes. “You know it.”
“Why aren’t you afraid?”
“I’m more afraid of not having you than of paying for the privilege.” He cupped her possessively through the lace of her thong.
Her head fell back, all resistance leaving her as his finger teased along the sensitive crease of her thigh where skin met the edge of lace. There was a vibrating anxiety inside her, a piercing hunger and longing that scared her more than the ramifications of what they were doing. The steamy sensuality that clung to him enveloped her, stoking her desire until she couldn’t think for wanting him. She wanted his touch so badly—craved it.
Adrian supported her spine in the cradle of one large hand and arched her toward him. She held her breath, waiting. He blew a cool stream of air over her puckered nipple, and the light constriction of her thong disappeared along with the garment itself. His hot, wet tongue stroked across her at the same moment his fingertips parted her and stroked across her clitoris. She shuddered violently and cried out, so damn turned on she thought she might combust. She was feverish, damp with sweat, and slick with arousal.
He gave a rumbling sound of approval. “Soft and wet. And waxed. Nothing to get in the way while I eat you for hours.”
