Free Tempt Me Tonight by Toni Blake Page A

palms and gazed into her eyes. “No more.”
    “What?” The words paralyzed her.
    “I don’t want to come yet.”
    “Oh.” Paralysis over. Pleasure to be continued. Thank God.
    Biting her lower lip, she met his eyes again, then moved smoothly up onto the couch to straddle him. When she lowered her palms to his bare shoulders, the simple contact radiated through her, along with his very
nearness,
their faces close now. It was one kind of intimacy to be near a man’s penis, but another to be eye to eye, mouths only a few inches apart. Every part of her ached for him—urgently.
    Brushing her lace-covered breasts teasingly across his chest, she angled a kiss across his lush mouth, tasting a hint of pizza—she’d noticed an empty box on the coffee table—and drinking in the fresh, clean scent of soap on his skin. Oh God, to kiss him again nearly took her breath away. One kiss turned into another, and another, until she sank heavy against him, lost in the passion, their tongues mingling in wild abandon. They’d learned to kiss together all those years ago, and she realized only now that no other man’s kisses had ever meshed so well with her mouth, ever made her feel so complete.
    But soon there was more than just kissing—his hands roamed her back, bottom, sides, and then her breasts.
Mmm, yes.
He rained more hot kisses to the curve of her neck as he firmly kneaded her through her bra, his skilled touch sending spasms soaring down her spine to ricochet to other key points of her body. And when he stroked his thumbs over her nipples—oh!—she heard herself pant with the hot pleasure of it.
    When his fingers slid smoothly between her legs from behind, she arched instinctively.
Oh God, yes. He’s touching me there again. Really touching me there.
Not under her panties, not yet—but the pleasure was almost as intense.
    Which was when all rational thought departed, leaving only action and instinct.
    While he peeled her bra straps down, they kissed more—wild, rough, slaking kisses made all the more amazing by the fact that his hardness pressed naked between them, nestled against the lace of her panties.
    He whispered her name between kissing her lips, cheeks, neck, shoulders. He whispered it hotter just before he yanked the lace down from her breasts, allowing him to draw one taut nipple into his mouth.
    “Oh…” she moaned, the intense pull echoing all the way to the juncture of her thighs. His eyes fell shut as he suckled her deeply, deeply—and she arched her chest, letting him know she wanted more.
    “I need inside you, Trish,” he growled.
    And their gazes met. Their bodies went still.
    It was like being wrapped in the eye of a hurricane—the strange, brisk calm of their eyes locking, of recognizing the storm they’d just been through, and the bigger one they were about to experience together.
    She recalled the times he’d dared to say those words when they were teenagers. It had seemed like the ultimate dirty talk then—so blunt about the geography of it, making her think about the sizes and shapes made to fit that way. And she thought about all the naughty responses she could give him in this ultimate moment of fruition, but it seemed the best, most natural, most fitting reply was simply to…rise up on her knees, reach down and pull the lace aside, and lower herself smoothly onto him until he was sheathed warm and tight inside her.
    “Unh…” she moaned, overwhelmed by the sensation, the fullness, the…
reality.
    Oh God. No.
    No, no, no.
    She knew instantly it was the biggest mistake of her life. Because nothing had ever felt more physically or emotionally perfect than finally having him inside her, connecting their bodies so profoundly. They both sat breathless and trembling and holding each other tight.
    She’d been so stupid—this
wasn’t
just sex. This was exactly what he’d promised her—
what she’d missed.
Every sweet, stirring emotion of her youth swirled with the rush of deep