Free Making Sense by Serenity Woods Page B

his lips against hers, kissed up her jaw to her ear, nuzzling it. “If I take you to bed, I’m not going to hold back.” He bit her earlobe, laughing as she shivered, and kissed down her neck, touching his tongue to where her pulse throbbed.
    “Oh God…”
    “If we do this, we do it a hundred percent.” He covered the pulse point with his mouth, sucking gently.
    “What do you mean?” she asked faintly.
    He kissed back up to her mouth and pulled back slightly to look into her eyes. “I mean, if you’re expecting a two-minute quickie and a pizza, it’s not going to happen.”  
    She swallowed. “I thought you said you were used to it being hot and fast.”
    “Sometimes hot and fast is good, it hits the spot.” He moved even closer to her, pressing himself along her body, pinning her to the glass. “But if I’m finally going to get you into bed, Aroha , in the dark, with your skin sticking to mine with sweat—” he kissed her neck again and touched his tongue to her damp skin, “—and all night to play with you, there’s no way I’m going to waste a precious second of that time.”
    Freya’s head spun. The whisky threaded through her veins, heating her blood, the rugby shirt growing damp against her back and under her breasts. Her heart pounded. She’d half expected him to lift her onto the table and take her then and there, in a brief, glorious burst of sexual passion, and she would have been content with that. But this…
    He lifted his head, looked her in the eye. “Well? Still want to go ahead?”
    “Oh my God, yes, yes, yes.”
    He laughed then and lowered his head, catching her lips in a hot, slow kiss. Freya sighed, still pinned to the glass beneath his weight, unable to do anything except kiss him back. Her erect nipples rubbed against the rough fabric of the shirt, and she could feel his erection solid and warm against the flat of her stomach. He stroked her tongue softly with his own, tasting her, eventually releasing her hands so he could slide his down her, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her tightly to him.
    Freya reached up on her tiptoes and put her arms around his neck, thoroughly enjoying the unhurried, sensual embrace, threading her fingers through the short, damp hair at the nape of his neck. He moved his hands to her hips, then around to her butt, pulling back slightly as he found it bare, the shirt having risen up when she put her arms around him.
    “Oh yeah,” he said enthusiastically.
    She laughed as he cupped her butt cheeks with his hands and squeezed them gently while he pulled her to him. “You’re definitely an ass man, then?”
    “You might change your mind in a few minutes when I get that top off,” he said, and they both laughed.
    She ran her hands down from his shoulders, along his muscular arms, tracing the tattoo. Moving back, she gestured for him to take off his T-shirt, and he grabbed it by the back of the neck, pulling it off and throwing it to the floor.
    The tattoo went from just above his elbow all the way up his arm and acr oss the joint in his shoulder, a curling Māori pattern that, in the semi-darkness, looked like vines snaking up his arm. She traced it with a finger up to his shoulder, continuing to move her fingertips down from his collarbone, across his muscled chest, t hrough the light brown hairs to his nipples, which she brushed lightly.
    He raised an eyebrow at her and grasped the bottom of her shirt. “Two can play at that game.”
    Her heart pounded, but she raised her arms so he could draw off the shirt and let it drop on top of his own. Lightning flashed, and she inhaled at the dark desire in his eyes as he turned her slightly toward the torchlight, his hands resting on her hips.
    “God, you’re beautiful.” His voice was husky. “Like a black-and-white photo.”
    “Thank you.” Her whole body glowed as his gaze caressed her appreciatively. I don’t shower women with compliments , he’d said, but that sounded pretty damn