Page 16 of Rescuing Aria
I gasp against his lips, fingers clutching at his shoulders. He tastes of wine and desire, of salt air and need too long denied. My body ignites, every nerve ending coming alive under his touch. His arm around my waist tightens, drawing me fully into his lap until I’m straddling him, the position intimate and thrilling.
Jon breaks the kiss only to trail his lips along my jaw, down the sensitive column of my throat. His teeth graze my pulse point, drawing a whimper from deep in my chest. My hands slide into his hair, holding him against me as heat pools between my thighs.
“God, you taste amazing,” he growls against my skin, the vibration sending new shivers through me. “Been wanting to do this for so long.”
His hands roam my back, my sides, skimming just beneath the hem of my sweater to touch my bare skin. The contact burns, his calloused fingers leaving trails of fire wherever they touch. I arch against him, seeking more contact, more friction, more everything.
Jon recaptures my mouth, the kiss deeper, hungrier. One hand splays across my lower back, pressing me tighter against him, letting me feel exactly how much he wants me. Theevidence of his desire sends a bolt of feminine pride through me—I did this to him, broke his legendary control.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard. Jon rests his forehead against mine, eyes closed as if gathering the last fragments of his restraint.
“If we don’t stop now,” he warns, voice ragged, “I’m not sure I’ll be able to.”
“Who said anything about stopping?” I roll my hips experimentally, drawing a hiss from between his clenched teeth.
Jon’s eyes snap open, dark with desire.
“Aria.” My name emerges as half-groan, half-warning. “I didn’t bring protection. Didn’t think we’d get this far tonight.”
The admission—that he wanted to be prepared but didn’t want to pressure me—touches something deep inside, but the fire he’s ignited in me refuses to be extinguished so easily.
“There are other ways to touch,” I whisper against his mouth, taking his hand and guiding it to the hem of my sweater.
“You sure?” A growl rumbles through his chest as his fingers slip beneath the fabric, palm hot against my bare stomach.
In answer, I arch against him, silently asking for more.
His touch grows bolder, calloused fingers sliding upward with torturous slowness until they graze the underside of my breast. My breath catches, head falling back as his thumb brushes across my nipple through the thin lace of my bra.
“God, you’re beautiful,” Jon murmurs, eyes locked on my face as he watches my reaction. His other hand tangles in my hair, angling my head for another searing kiss as he cups my breast fully, thumb circling the hardened peak.
A soft moan escapes me, swallowed by his hungry mouth. Heat pools between my thighs as his fingers deftly slip beneath the lace, skin against skin at last. The calluses on his fingertips create exquisite friction against my sensitive flesh.
“Jon,” I gasp, arching into his touch.
He shifts us, laying me back against the blanket, his body half covering mine as his mouth travels down my neck. His hand never leaves my breast, alternating between gentle caresses and firmer touches that send lightning through my veins.
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he breathes against my collarbone, even as his free hand pushes my sweater higher, exposing more skin to the cool night air.
“Don’t you dare,” I manage, threading my fingers through his hair.
His lips replace his fingers, hot mouth closing over my nipple through the lace. The dual sensation of wet heat and rough fabric draws a cry from my throat. My hips buck instinctively, seeking pressure, friction, release.
Jon’s hand slides to my hip, thumb tracing circles against the exposed skin between my jeans and sweater.
“Easy,” he soothes, though the strain in his voice betrays his own struggle for control. “We have all night.”
The promise in those words sends another wave of heat through me. His mouth returns to mine, the kiss deep and possessive as his hands continue their exploration, learning what makes me gasp, what makes me moan, what makes me whisper his name like a prayer.
Time loses meaning as we touch and taste, discovering each other beneath the vast canopy of stars. Jon’s restraint amazes me—every move calculated to bring me pleasure while maintaining the boundaries he’s set for tonight.
Eventually, reluctantly, we slow our exploration. My body thrums with satisfied desire, but a deeper ache lingers—unspent, smoldering.
“Rain check on the rest,” I whisper against his mouth, brushing a final kiss to his swollen lips.
“Definitely.” His voice is still gravel-edged, need wrapped in restraint.
He helps me adjust my clothes, his hands reverent, then pulls me against his chest, his jacket tucked around us both, sealing me in his warmth. His arms lock around my waist from behind like he doesn’t want to let go.
