Free If You Dare by Jessica Lemmon Page B

teasing him, she added, “Is it tiny?”
    He made a choking sound and lifted his head. She could see the dampness on his lips, watched him narrow his eyes and peer at her through all those dark lashes. “You tell me,” he answered, his smile turning predatory as he nudged her entrance with his erection.
    She gasped at the contact. Definitely not tiny . But she’d known that, had intended for him to answer her challenge. “Then let me see it,” she said with all the conviction she could muster. Which wasn’t much.
    He moved until his face was over hers. Against her lips, he muttered in a low, almost threatening tone, “I’d rather you feel it.” Then pushed into her another inch.
    The sound that came from her lips wasn’t a gasp, wasn’t feminine at all, actually. It was downright guttural. More like a guh followed by an expelled breath. Nice work. Because grunting was oh-so-sexy. This was one argument Marcus was winning. Clearly . He knew it, too, sliding deeper into her and pulling a long, low sound of satisfaction from her throat.
    “Have it your way,” she whispered, surrendering.
    He lowered to his elbows and hovered over her, blotting out the light with his body. “Lily. Finally. Out of my dreams.” He slid in to the hilt and paused, stretching her, filling her. A deep groan reverberated from his chest to hers.
    Clinging to his back, she admired the curve of one rounded shoulder, the line of his torso. Then she closed her eyes. She didn’t need to see him. Just feel him. And there was a lot of him to feel.
    He started to pull out, but she wrapped her legs around him, dug her heels into his tight butt, and savored every inch of him as he slid home again.
    Encased within her, he blew out a breath and dropped his forehead to hers.
    She lifted her lips to his, expecting him to devour her, tease her with his tongue and teeth, or rasp her flesh with the hard scrape of whiskers. He didn’t. Instead, he kissed her gently, his tongue tracing her lips while he moved his body in and out of hers at a slow, drugging pace, winding her tighter, causing her breath to catch. On a low, barely there whisper, she sighed his name again.
    He drew in an answering breath, and she waited to hear the quip, the joke, the dab of levity for the most intense moment they’d ever shared. But he only dropped his head into the crook of her neck and laid his mouth over her leaping pulse as they found their unhurried rhythm in the dark.
    As his chest brushed against her, she trailed her fingers along his back, reading the lines of muscle and ridges of his spine like Braille, committing every inch of him to memory. If they had only these stolen moments in this pocket of time, she’d take it. And she didn’t want to forget anything about him. Not the hardness of him between her legs, not the hair tickling her breasts, not the sound of his breath or the reverence in which he stroked her temples as he moved with her.
    Marcus braced his weight on one arm, brushing a few stray strands aside as he kissed her cheek. He skimmed his other palm down the side of her body, over her ribs, the arch of her hip, and into the curls at the junction of her thighs.
    Once there, he knew exactly what to do. Knew how much pressure to place against her sensitive nub, knew how to coordinate his thumb with the forward thrust of his hips as he drove into her again and again. It was a delicate dance he’d mastered, and she was fortunate to reap the rewards.
    Her high, tight noises must have encouraged him because he stubbornly held his position, his fingers quickening their pace, his thick length plunging into her. That’s when she realized she had all the light she needed exploding behind her eyelids. Her body bucked. Close, so close to release. She couldn’t pinpoint what drove her wilder—the feel of his talented fingers playing her wet flesh or the slide of his body against hers as he slipped inside her.
    Marcus continued his erotic assault, pushing her to