Free All Grown Up by Janice Maynard Page A

came to discussing such topics.
    His face lightened. “I had a physical last month. A-okay. You can trust me, Annalise. I hope you know that.”
    “I do,” she whispered. Without waiting for an invitation, she reached out and took him in her hand, measuring the firm, swollen flesh with inner wonder. If sculptors created guys like Sam, the museums would be a lot more crowded.
    His eyes closed at the first brush of her fingers. He felt amazingly hard and disarmingly smooth and silky. But would all that maleness fit? Her thighs clenched in something that was a cross between breathless excitement and genuine apprehension.
    Stroking him tentatively, she caught her breath when he went rigid and found release in her hand, warm liquid leaking through her fingers and dribbling onto her belly.
    He groaned. “Annalise, I’m sorry. Let’s try that again.” Very matter-of-factly he used a corner of one thin blanket to clean her and himself. She was abashed, unused to such easy intimacy. But his tenderness charmed and disarmed her.
    His shaft was still mostly erect, definitely firm enough to get the job done. But instead of moving over and into her, he knelt between her legs and grinned the kind of grin that guaranteed a girl in trouble. “You’re not saying anything.”
    Suddenly, she wanted to cover her breasts with her hands, but knew that would elicit a hoot of derision from her beautifully naked lover. “You seem to have everything under control,” she said. “Knock yourself out.”
    The grin broadened, and he stretched out on his side, tucking his torso between her thighs so he could reach what he was after.
    Annalise closed her eyes and groaned inwardly. What he was about to do was both terrifying and wickedly wonderful. She’d spent her entire life protecting her deepest emotions. Only once had she dared to wear her heart on her sleeve, and it had been shattered by this very man.
    Now she was allowing him the utmost intimacy, and she wasn’t at all sure she could separate sexual bliss from a deeper, far more fragile emotion. It was one thing to let him see she desired him. But far more dangerous to expose the reality that she had never stopped loving him.
    The first pass of his lips brought her hips off the floor. Her fists gripped the soft covers beneath her to find an anchor. She’d been fastidious and guarded in her few physical relationships up until this moment. Never had she permitted a man to get this close. Never had she imagined how good this would feel. She wasn’t naive. She read books. Saw movies. Oral sex was a natural part of lovemaking, even if she’d always drawn a line to hold men at bay.
    The oddly clinical commentary in her brain shut down when Sam used his thumbs to part the folds of her sex so his talented tongue could concentrate on the spot that begged for his attention. He tasted her delicately, fine-tuning his technique in reaction to her wiggling hips.
    He licked the inside of her thigh, bit gently, laid his head on her belly. The weight of him anchored her in a spinning world. Without volition, one of her hands unclenched and found its way to Sam’s hair, sliding into the thick, wavy layers.
    She traced the curves of his skull, drunk with the pleasure of being able to touch him at will.
    Now he used his fingers, plucking delicately, stroking as if he had all the time in the world. Her belly tightened. An ache coalesced deep inside her. “Stop,” she breathed, the word barely audible. “Not like this. I want you inside me when I come.”
    Lifting his head, he looked at her, eyes solemn, an errant lock of hair falling over his forehead. He looked young and carefree and as tempting as the devil. “Whatever you want, Annalise.”
    He went to his knees and leaned forward, one hand on either side of her. The heat from his body felt like a warm blanket. Nudging her knees a little wider, he fit the head of his erection to her damp core and pushed.
    Her heels dug into the blanket. Eyelids