Free Hot in Here by Lori Foster Page B

you don’t shut up, how the hell can I make love to you?”
    “But you said—” He sucked her nipple into his mouth, drawing on her, teasing with the tip of his tongue. “Harris.”
    Her hips pressed up against his, seeking. He could feel the wild rapping of her heart. In a rough growl, Harris said, “I know I promised slow and easy, but honey, I’m not sure I can manage that this first time.”
    “No.” She panted too, sounding every bit as affected. “I don’t want you to.”
    Clair wasn’t a weak woman, and the way she gripped him now told Harris that she meant it, that she was as anxious as he felt. Unwilling to cheat her, to rush her too much, he switched to her other nipple at the same time his hand moved down her body, tickling her skin into a fever, over her ribs, her waist, her hip. She had a lush, full bottom, and her skin was silky soft, warm. He trailed his fingers over her sleek runner’s thighs, and smiled at the way she clenched them together.
    Knowing how his words would affect her, he said, “Open your thighs for me, Clair. Let me touch you.”
    Another moan bubbled up from deep in her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, trembling from the anticipation, and slowly parted her legs.
    Teasing her a bit, Harris traced around her pubic curls.
    “Harris...”
    He loved the way she said his name. Cupping her mound, he carefully stroked, opening her, then slid one finger in deep. She was hot, wet, and immediately her hips lifted, deepening his penetration.
    Clair gasped—and opened her legs more.
    Such an honest response, so typical of Clair. With his free arm, he pulled her closer to his chest, to his heart, while still stroking her, bringing her closer and closer to the edge.
    “You’re the one who smells good, Clair,” he couldn’t help but tell her. “Sweet and soft. I love how you smell.” To emphasize that, he pressed his nose into her neck. He thought about what Ethan had said, about having a woman coddle him when he got home from a hard day fighting a fire. He wanted that woman to be Clair. He wanted her scent to cloak his body, instead of the scent of smoke. He wanted her to hold him, not any other woman. He wanted to come home to her every day and know that she was his, and only his.
    The acknowledgment of his emotions pushed him over the edge. He needed to be inside her, soon. She was gasping, moving rhythmically against his hand, her skin radiating heat. But it wasn’t enough. Harris wanted her pleasure to be a foregone conclusion, because God knew once he got inside her, he wouldn’t last.
    “You’ll like this,” he told her, and kissed her breasts again, sucking hard, nipping a little with his teeth.
    She gasped, then gasped again when he kissed her ribs, gently bit her soft belly, and settled between her legs.
    “Harris?”
    “God, you smell good, Clair.” He pressed closer, inhaling the scent of her excitement, her femaleness. Using his thumbs, he parted her, sought her out with his tongue, and then closed his mouth hotly over her.
    Her groan was long and satisfying, accompanied by a stiffening of her legs, the spontaneous lifting of her hips, a surge of new warmth. She whimpered, and in a breathless whisper, said, “Oh God.”
    Harris pressed himself hard against the mattress, trying to curb the ache her pleasure created. He felt her straining, getting closer and closer, and he worked two fingers into her even as he continued to suckle her clitoris, working her with his tongue—and she came.
    Her shout took him by surprise, and thrilled him. He locked one arm around her, holding her still as she shuddered and trembled and cried out. He could feel her squeezing his fingers, feel the surge of wetness and heat. He loved eating Clair, and if he hadn’t wanted her for so long, he could have started all over again.
    But he had wanted her, whether he realized it or not. His feelings for her had made it easy to give up other women. Celibacy was much simpler when he wanted only