Make Me Forget - Page 33

nine

They walked up a flight of stairs to the pool deck. He led her over to a double chaise lounge that included a canopy. He felt customarily unsure . . . uncertain of what he planned to do. He wanted her. Like crazy. But he couldn’t take her in the ways to which he was accustomed. Not yet. He needed to seduce her.

He certainly needed to prove he was capable of something beyond that rush of heated lust he’d subjected her to last night. Just the recollection embarrassed him. It also aroused him. At the same time, how he usually proceeded with a woman, his matter-of-fact, bold dominance wasn’t any more appropriate than his out-of-control need had been.

He paused at the foot of the lounger, turned, and again cradled her jaw in his hands. She looked up at him, her gaze similar to that anxious yet aroused one he’d fantasized about while he masturbated twice last night . . . and again this morning.

Too similar.

She felt very delicate to him. She deserved to be cherished. Surely he could manage that, for Harper’s sake?

He kissed her mouth gently, coaxing her to open for him. When she did, her taste flooded him. It made him ache so quickly, when he’d thought himself calm. Recognizing what was happening, he forced himself to be patient as he penetrated her mouth, savoring her. She made him lose control, so he would learn her. He would learn how to master this need.

He wasn’t Jake Tharp anymore.

“Let’s get you out of these,” he murmured a moment later, forcing himself to break their increasingly fevered kiss. He began to unbutton her sweater, but instead paused to cup one full, firm breast.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” he admitted gruffly, watching the progress of his stroking hand. “I kept thinking how soft your breasts would feel beneath this sweater . . . how good. It was driving me crazy.”

“Really?”

He glanced up to her face at the hint of surprise in her tone. “You were driving me crazy in it,” he corrected. He reached up and cradled both breasts in his hands, holding her stare. “I was wrong. You feel even better than I expected,” he murmured. He was being honest. The material was feathery soft and fit her breasts snugly. The sensation of her firm, feminine flesh beneath struck him as intensely erotic. He found the beading crests and rubbed them through her bra.

Her lips fell open. He liked when she looked that way. Dazed. Flushed. Entranced. He liked seeing the evidence of her arousal, especially when he himself had gone stone hard at the feeling of her in his hand.

“I hated not being able to see you last night,” he said, continuing to massage her sweater-covered breasts.

“I know. Me, too. I mean . . . about you,” she said shakily.

“We have plenty of light now,” he said, referring to the brilliant summer evening. Holding her stare, he slowly unbuttoned the soft sweater, his anticipation shockingly sharp.

“Why are you smiling?” she asked as he unfastened the sweater to just above her waist. Instead of unfastening it all the way, he turned his attention to unbuttoning the dress beneath it.

He shook his head. “I was thinking I’m probably going to acquire some kind of fetish for fuzzy pink sweaters, thanks to you.”

She laughed. He glanced up at her face, even as his fingers continued to work the buttons, this time of her dress, descending between the swells of her breasts. She looked radiant. She was made to bathe in the rosy, warm hues of the setting sun.

“You’re lovely.”

Her smile faded. She shook her head slightly, as if at a loss for words. “Thank you. I feel the same about you,” she whispered.

He parted the fabric of her dress, revealing an ivory bra that hugged her breasts snugly. He ran his fingers over the firm, plump globes, fully intent on his task. He’d always loved every part of a woman’s body, but he was known for having a thing for breasts in particular. It dawned on him in that moment that this female had perhaps been the very one to inspire that particular sexual preference so many years ago.

The realization stunned him. It amplified his lust, because here she was: the source of so many adolescent fantasies in the flesh.

The skin of her chest was flushed. He saw the spellbinding, quick throb of her pulse at her throat. It was a sweet tease, what he was doing, but suddenly he couldn’t take it anymore. He hooked his fingers inside the cups of fabric and peeled them back firmly over her nipples, plumping the flesh up over her bra and clothing. For a few seconds, he just stared, feeling his blood roaring in his veins and pulsing in his cock.

“Jesus,” he muttered in awe, touching both nipples at once with his fingertips. The crests were fairly large, but delicate. So pretty. They were a unique coral pink color. As he touched them, they puckered tight, the color deepening. The contrast of the color to her pale breasts was mouthwatering.

He wanted to eat her alive.

“Lie back on the chaise lounge,” he said, and he realized his tone had gone hard. Lust-bitten.

“You . . . you don’t want the rest of my clothes off?”

His gaze jerked to her face. “Of course I do,” he assured more evenly. “But I’ll take them off in a moment. Right now, just lie back.”

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Tags: Beth Kery Erotic
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