Free Basic Training by Julie Miller Page B

the best kisses of his life. He’d rank it number one if he only counted the women he remembered.
    There’d been one back in college. A fantasy kiss. A mystery woman. He’d never been that drunk before—had wisely never been that drunk since. But whether that make-out session had been the perfect solace for his breakup with Stacy, or just a feverish wet dream, he’d probably never know.
    “Travis?” Tess was squiggling again, rubbing choice parts against bits of his anatomy that leaped in eager response.
    “I’m with ya.” Reality topped fantasies and shadowy memories every time. He tightened his arms around Tess and reclaimed her kiss.
    “Mmm,” she moaned with a ragged impatience that matched his own. He dragged his lips to her throat to lap at the sound and taste the drumming beat of her pulse beneath his tongue. “Trav—” she gasped, arching her back and inviting his lips into the unbuttoned gap of her shirt.
    Retreat! Retreat!
    But Travis was ignoring the order in lieu of discovering the exact spot where the taut skin across her collarbone and sternum gave way to the softer swell of abreast. His pulse pounded in his ears and his nose filled with the arousing scents of citrus and sunshine that clung to her hair and clothes. His mind was lost in the moment—lost in the reawakening sense of manhood, potency, virility, success. He was lost in the woman.
    She’d dared him to kiss her.
    Seemed like a sweet deal. In exchange for putting his father’s fears to rest, he could erase a few doubts about that future spinsterhood she questioned. Give her a shot of confidence. Offer a little expert training to make Ashton sit up and notice the new Tess Bartlett he had become aware of. As a bonus, he could explore, fulfill, then finally cast aside this crazy need that had tormented his waking moments as well as his dreams.
    Except…nothing in him seemed to be easing, abating. The more contact he had, the more he wanted. He skimmed his hands along the backs of her smooth, sinewy thighs. Up beneath her shorts. Inside her panties where he kneaded and squeezed a handful of that tight, gorgeous ass.
    He tugged her across his chest until one sweet, ripe breast dangled above his mouth. Lifting his head, he captured her nipple through shirt and bra, and suckled until she squirmed and moaned and batted helpless fists against his shoulders.
    “Uh-uh, sweetheart,” he wanted to coach her. “Don’t fight it. Just enjoy.”
    “Travis—” she gasped. Her fists beat a little harder, but her thighs convulsed around his hips in an unspoken signal of pleasure.
    “Touch me.” He suckled harder and a tremor racked through her body. “We need…” The cotton knit was wetenough that he could feel the seam of her bra, the puckering of her areola, the needy, greedy thrust of her nipple dancing inside his mouth. “…to touch.” He worked his hands between them, unhooking the button of her shorts.
    Her fingers slid beneath his shirt, finding and singeing his sensitized skin with her hot, seeking hands. “Like this?”
    “Oh, yeah.” Travis grabbed at the hem of her pink top. Her back was smooth and supple beneath his hand. He shoved the shirt up and reached for her bra clasp. He wanted a naked, straining tit in his mouth. Now. He fumbled with the hooks. “Damn.” He was out of practice. This was going to be a two-handed job.
    “We should slow down.” She palmed a pectoral. How could he possibly slow down? “Do you think we—?”
    “Yes.” She brushed her lips against his and he caught them, silenced them. One hook popped. “It’s just a kiss.” He nipped at her. “Just…” The sensuous curve of her bottom lip fit perfectly between his. “Kiss…”
    Pop. The last hook gave way.
    He was done talking.
    He bucked beneath her, bouncing her up, then sliding his hands inside her shirt and bra, catching her bounty in his palms. She groaned. “This is too much.”
    It wasn’t enough.
    He squeezed the dusky tan nipples