Page 55 of The Lyon Whisperer
His lips feathered over hers.
She rose up in tiptoes, seeking his kiss.
He remained just out of reach.
“Please, Chase.”
“You want me to make you feel good, like before?”
The rough sound of his voice curled into her, twisting her insides. Eyes pinched closed, she nodded, her breaths choppy.
“Shall I make love to you?”
“Yes.Yes,” she said again, surprised at her own vehemence.
He loosened the tie of her robe, parting the folds, then grasped fistfuls of her night rail, bunching the material higher and higher. Cold night air whispered over her exposed thighs.
He reached between them, his fingers gently cruising over her curls.
She sucked in a breath as the area between her legs thrummed with need.
He parted her, one finger delving into her most secret place. Slowly. So slowly.
Intense pleasure shafted through her at the gentle exploration. She shuddered against his hand and, with a helpless cry, fell into his hard chest.
Uttering a low growl, he caught her in his arms. He grasped the bedcover and swiped it off in one move.
In the next moment, he lay her atop cool bedsheets, the night-chilled linen like a balm to her heated flesh as Chase’s mouth finally,finallyclaimed hers.
His hands roamed over her body, hot and insistent, alternately squeezing and caressing with a mounting urgency that heightened her own ’til her insides quivered with longing. Unlike yesterday, she knew what awaited her at his magical touch—a glorious release the likes of which she had never dreamt existed.
His mouth left hers to trail kisses over her cheek, down the column of her neck, along her collar bone, while his hands roamed. He grazed the flat of his palms over her ribs, her breasts.
“Sweetheart, you feel so good,” he murmured against her breastbone, his thick hair tickling her nose. He nuzzled her breasts, dampening the thin lawn gown with his kisses.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him to her, weaving her fingers into his hair as everything in her turned molten with desire.
When his lips circled one nipple, tugging it gently into his mouth through the linen, she arched upward like a perfect hoyden, urging him to take more. Nothing in her life had prepared her for the exquisite torment.
He lifted his head and blew on the damp fabric. Gooseflesh erupted over her skin.
She reached for him, as the need to feel his mouth on hers, to lose herself in his mind-drugging kisses as his weight pressed her into the mattress blotted out all else. “Chase, you make me feel such wonderful things.”
He tugged up the hem of her nightshift and gave a wicked-sounding chuckle. “Do I? Do you like this, sweetheart?” He touched her at her apex, and she whimpered, unable to give voice to the delicious sensations he elicited in her.
Gently, so gently, his fingers played over her. He brought his mouth to her ear. “So warm and wet,” he purred, his whiskers abrading her skin.
She was beyond speech. Her hips undulated at his touch. She dimly understood she should be mortified at her own brazenness, the moisture she could feel trickling from inside her surely glossing his hand. She could not bring herself to care, not with the glorious crescendo so close. So very close…
She gasped when he withdrew his fingers, straightening away from her. She grabbed at his wrist, lifting her gaze to his, inwardly pleading with him not to stop whatever it was he was doing to her.
His eyes, heavy lidded with promise, met hers. A slow, knowing smile curved his lips as he peeled out of the heavy robe he wore.
In the next moment, he speared her legs apart with his knee, then covered her body with his. The weight and heat of him, pressing her into the mattress felt so right, more right than anything she’d ever known.
He slid his hand between them, guiding his erection to her core. Anticipation roiled through her. But he did not enter her as she expected. He merely nudged her with his own slick member, teasing her with the promise of what was to come.
She sucked her lower lip between her teeth and whimpered.
