Free Best Fake Day by Tracey Rogers Page B

skill before sweeping inside her mouth, meeting her tongue as he tasted and unleashed her fervor.
    Rising to her knees, moisture flooded between her legs as her breasts met a wall of exquisite muscle. She heard a groan. Hers? No, both of them, she decided as he wrapped his arms around her drawing her closer. She kissed him back with a desperation that betrayed her pent-up longing. If he was kissing her like a man then she would kiss him like a woman. If this was her only chance she would give it everything she had.
    Everything.
    Lifting her hand, she took a sensory journey along the curve of his pecs to settle at his neck, her fingers tantalized by his silky hair. All the while their kiss went on and on, his hot lips pressed against her mouth, working together greedily, never ceasing in their selfish exploration. With her arm raised, Jack seized the opportunity to slide his hand around to the bare skin exposed by the raised hem of her vest top. She arched in response, the heat of his palm searing her skin like a hot brand.
    “Izzy,” he murmured against her mouth. “Stop undressing me.” Although her greedy lips refused to allow him a smile she sensed it was there.
    Damn, she hadn’t realized she was. His protest was weak and now she was aware of the intention of her free hand she tugged at his shirt with fierce determination. Her body demanded his skin next to hers. With a ragged groan he tore his lips away and dragged his shirt over his shoulders. He tossed it down somewhere into the shadows. She drank in the sight of him with a hunger she had never felt before. She knew now she had always been waiting for him, always holding back.
    The glow of candlelight bathed his skin with a kiss of gold. Golden highlights of perfection for her to touch. Trailing a finger down the contours of his abdomen, she reveled in his indrawn breath. Her eyes widened with satisfaction as her gaze followed the path of her finger to his waistband. There was no disguising the thickness of his arousal.
    Her gaze flicked up to meet his as his hand snagged her wrist away. If his skin was golden then his eyes were pools of liquid silver.
    “I think it’s your turn for show and tell.”
    She swallowed the knot of apprehension in her throat. A man who had made a career in the world of beautiful people was asking her to bare herself to him. And she wore no bra for that comfort hug. “But what if I show and then you tell that you don’t like what you see?”
    “I already do like what I see.”
    His arms reached out, hands gripping her narrow waist as his thumbs made deceivingly lazy strokes that were in no way lazy in their effect. So agonizingly slow he stroked his way upward until he grazed the sensitive underside of her breasts. She sucked in a breath. Her nipples tingled and budded almost painfully as they begged for his attention. He obliged. Obviously he didn’t believe in favoritism as he lavished each peak with indulgent skill.
    “I like what I feel too,” he whispered in a hot breath above her ear.
    God, he was making her want to throw every cotton fiber she wore at him.
    “Now I need to know how you taste.” His raspy words sent a tremor of longing through every nerve ending. With her flip-flops already removed her toes curled into hard wood as his dexterous thumbs skimmed her ribcage with the skill of a pianist and hooked under her vest.
    He bunched the fabric in his palms before sliding it from her sensitized skin.
    Clenching her hands at her sides, Izzy fought the urge to cover herself. In this game of Truth or Dare she would continue with the truth. This was her. Izzy. Bared for him. It was his decision now to take what she was offering.
    Everything stilled. Only imperceptible breaths and the dance of candlelight existed. And the breaths weren’t hers. She had forgotten how. The lust-filled look he was giving made her feel like she wasn’t actually wearing her bunny face PJs and for him she was beautiful. Clutching her vest