Page 140 of The Trouble with Tigers
“Zeke, it was still daylight, for goodness sake, in the heart of a religious festival. How dangerous could the man be?”
“When we’re married, I won’t be able to let you out of my sight, will I?”
“That’s just it, isn’t it?” she said, eyes shimmering. She half-heartedly pushed at his chest. “We aren’t going to be married because you—”
“Enough talking,” he growled. He pressed her back onto the pillows, lowered his head and kissed her.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Her arms snaked up and around his neck, and her lips clung to his.
He wanted more, needed more, desperately so, as if his life depended on it.
“You feel so good,” he whispered against her lips. “I need to touch you. Need your skin against mine,” he murmured as he fisted her nightdress into one hand and dragged it up over her hips. Fisted again and brought it to her waist.
When her fingers slid from his hair, and her arms came between them, he wondered briefly if she meant to push him away. Instead she arched up, grasped the fabric of her sheer gown, and pulled it over her head.
Now he wished he’d left the lamp burning.
“You’ll make sure we won’t get pregnant?” she whispered, raining kisses across his throat, the underside of his jaw. Her fingers kneaded the muscles of his chest, every so often stabbing him with the edges of her nails.
“Zeke?” she prodded.
He had to search his mind to recall her question. “If that’s what you want, sweetheart.”
Waves of heady desire rolled over him as she shimmied and shifted beneath him, her silken flesh gliding beneath his hardness till she had them hip-to-hip.
“Oh, God, Kitty, don’t move like that,” he ground out between clenched teeth.
She stopped moving—her body. Her fingers tickled the hair at his nape. He felt her touch all the way to the tip of his cock, which was presently cocooned between the twin pillows of her thighs and pointing straight at their apex.
“You don’t like the way I’m doing it?” She sounded truly uncertain.
Before he could reply, she inched her legs apart and the head of his cock dove for heaven.
His breath hissed from his lungs. In the nick of time he rolled off her uttering a rapid-fire, “Oh-ho, God, Kitty.” He jammed a hand into his hair and gulped air. “You feel too good. You make me lose control.”
“Then I suppose you’ll really despise this.” He heard the sly lilt to her voice a moment before she rose onto her knees, twisting to plant her hands on either side of his face.
For a moment, he simply stared up at her, his gaze tracing the elegant arch of her neck. He reached up, twining his fingers in her ebony waves, falling in tangled curls all around him. He tugged, intending to pull her in for a kiss.
She lifted one knee, and straddled him.
Zeke hinged up at the waist, taking her face in his hands to kiss her like she held the key to his very existence. Sweat lined his brow, and trickled down the center of his back, as his body shivered with need.
Never breaking their kiss, Kitty wriggled her hips, sliding upward 'til her heat nudged the base of his erection. When itseemed she wasn’t going to stop there, Zeke reached a hand between them, easing his fingers down the center of her belly to her curls. Gently he parted her, working his fingers into her damp heat.
With their lips locked, she gasped in pleasure, stealing the breath from his lungs.
She lifted her hips a fraction, granting him greater access, and whimpering with need. Soon she was shuddering against his hand, against his hips, the hot entrance to her core teasing his rigid erection with enough regularity he nearly lost it again.
All at once she reached between them, her cool fingers closing around his thrumming flesh, and he lost the ability to breathe. She nestled him into her heat and pressed her hips downward, impaling herself inch by precious inch.
She was so tight. So wet. So hot. Pulling him in. He lay back, unable to do anything other than drown in the cresting waves of pleasure.
She rode him, slowly, resisting his every effort to take control. He’d never been more desperate for a woman, or more captured.
He gasped in a breath when his head started to spin—lack of oxygen? He couldn’t speak. Could only marvel at the intensity of wanting like he’d never known.
