Page 113 of The Trouble with Tigers
His words both shocked and enthralled her. “I’m not going anywhere.” She barely recognized the husky voice as her own.
Heat flared in his eyes. “In that case…”
His hand drifted to the bodice of her bodice. He toyed with the ribbon-trimmed edge, slipping his fingertips beneath the fabric. “I think one of us has on too many clothes.”
“I’ll need a bit of help with the buttons,” she said. Inwardly, she marveled at her calm tone. Her insides were quaking.
In one easy move, he rolled off her, taking his body heat with him.
She sat up, twisting so her back was to him, and slanted a glance over her shoulder.
Propping himself up on one elbow, he wordlessly set to his task. His burnished gold hair and bare chest gleamed in the candlelight. An artfully draped sheet concealed his hips and one leg, while the other tanned leg rested, knee bent, foot flat on the twisted fabric. He resembled nothing short of a debauched demigod.
She held her breath as he pushed the fabric of her gown apart. The cool night air whispered over her shoulders, causing gooseflesh to rise all over her body.
“Are you cold?” Zeke ran one fingertip down the length of her spine, stoking the hot and needy ache pulsing low in her abdomen. She shook her head.
He inched closer, and the heat from his body swathed her. He reached around her to push her bodice low, sliding her arms out of the puffed sleeves. The fabric pooled around her hips.
His large hands encircled her waist. “Better,” he murmured in her ear as his fingers drifted up her ribcage.
He bent his head to kiss her neck, and slowly, so slowly, his fingertips grazed the undersides of her breasts.
Body humming with sensation, she fell into the wall of his chest, and gasped when she felt a hard ridge against her buttocks.
His body shuddered at the contact, and he half-growled. His hands slid roughly upward, to cup and squeeze her breasts through the sheer silk of her chemise. He rolled her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, each tug sending intoxicating darts of pleasure deep in her core.
She closed her eyes, glorying in the heady sensations, and every ragged draw of his breath in her ears. Nameless, dizzying need clawed through her.
He turned her to face him, his gaze traveling down her torso. His mouth curved in a wicked grin as he shoved her gently into the pillows.
“Still too many damned clothes.” He shimmied her gown and petticoat down her legs and flung them to the floor.
The sheets ensconcing him had disappeared. Candlelight limned the tapering V of his torso, illuminating the band of his white drawers—and the very definite, very large bulge.
The first flicker of doubt assailed her. But she couldn’t leave. Not now. She would have to live on this night for years to come.
Zeke hinged forward, planting his forearms on either side of her. As always, the scent of him—sandalwood, spice, and pure Zeke, numbed her mind to all but an insatiable craving to be closer to him. Her doubts receded. She loved him, and for tonight, nothing and no one else mattered.
He pressed feather kisses across her collarbone, his soft hair tickling her nose. Then his warm, wet lips encircled one nipple through her chemise.
A kaleidoscope of pleasure spiraled through her. “Zeke,” she half-whimpered.
He gave a low groan, as his tongue danced over her nipple, flicking softly, before his lips closed over her again to suck and pull at the heated flesh.
His hand skimmed down, over her waist, her hip. He bunched a handful of the skirt of her chemise. The sheer lawn inchedupward. He grasped another fistful of material, exposing the lacy ruffle of her knickers.
A moment later, her underskirt reached her hips. Cool air whispered over the bare flesh where the fabric of her crotchless knickers parted. She’d never felt so vulnerable, or so alive.
His hand settled on her knee. Stilled. He brought his mouth back to hers and kissed her so tenderly she thought her heart might burst from her chest. “All right, kitten?”
Unable to speak, she nodded.
Staring into her eyes, he smoothed his lightly calloused palm up her thigh, pushing her knickers higher until his fingers slipped into the loose folds of fabric to cup her bare bottom. Goose flesh rose over her entire body.
She bit her low lip and pressed her face into his damp, hot neck.
“Shh,” he whispered. His fingertips traced slow circles on her tender skin, ‘til her insides bubbled like hot wax and the area between her legs thrummed with need.
