Page 87 of Every Little Kiss
“The problem was, I wasn’t feeling very sweet.”
“Right now, I’m not either, cupcake,” he said, tugging her forward to the very edge of the seat. “So what did you pick?”
“Something that was honest and bold and left no question about what I wanted.” She looked up at him through her lashes. “Why don’t you check and tell me if I did a good job?”
Pulling her to stand between his parted legs, Ford slid his hands up the back of her thighs, not stopping until he got to her very bare, very bold ass. And groaned. “No clarification needed.”
His eyes were intense, and locked on hers, as he leaned up and nipped at her neck, then her shoulder, pressing a kiss right above her belly button in a move that was so gentle it stole her breath—and left no room for misunderstanding.
Yup, they were on the same page, thank God, because for a moment there Liv was afraid he’d want to talk all night. Not that she wasn’t into talking, but tonight she wanted to feel. And Ford made her feel things she’d long given up hope on feeling.
Running her hand in his hair, Liv held him to her as he ran kisses across her ribcage and down her belly, sending a flood of feeling pooling between her legs. His hands were like a heat-seeking missile. They were under her dress and going from question to confidence as they cupped her bottom, his callused thumbs working their way forward, lightly grazing along the edge of her inner thighs until she thought her knees were going to buckle.
“Come here,” he whispered, guiding her onto his lap.
Not only did she go, she cupped his face and brought his mouth to hers for a series of languid, drugging kisses that had her melting against him until the soft denim of his jeans pressed against her sensitive skin.
Ford was the most excellent kisser. In fact, he should have been given a gold medal in the kissing department. And his fingers should be considered one of the seven wonders of the world. Soft but purposeful, patient and demanding. Sneaky as well.
One minute they were close to her hot zone, driving her insane, and the next the top of her dress was sliding down. But she had a trick up her sleeve too—or should she say, under her dress, and she knew the second Ford found it.
His hands stumbled, and fire lit his eyes. “The bra matches the panties.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Big step all around tonight.”
Ford’s face softened, and a tenderness filled his eyes. “Big, small, I’m right here keeping pace.”
Liv’s heart waved its white flag and fully surrendered. “I think I’m ready to run.”
“Then let’s get you warmed up,” he said, and placed a hot open-mouthed kiss right on her nipple.
Liv’s heart raced as if she were in the final stretch of a marathon. He cupped her in his hands, slowly attending to one and then the other, taking his time as if the warm-up was as important as the finish. And Ford would finish, of that she had no doubt.
She let out a breath and shivered from head to toe, it felt so good.
“Are you cold?” he whispered. Before she could say no, her body was in overload, and he was standing with her in his arms, then leaning down to rest her back against the lounger. Her dress hit the floor moments before his big, warm body was covering hers. “Better?”
“Getting there,” she teased.
“Let me show you what getting there feels like.” His gaze swept down her body in a hungry manner that brought on another wave of tremors. “And how much more fun it is with two.”
Unable to speak, Liv watched as he kissed his way down her body, getting closer and closer to her hot zone. With agonizing slowness, he licked and nipped, his breath dancing over her skin, until every nerve ending was screaming out that he needed to getthere, and get there quick.
As he got closer, she was afraid to move, afraid to breathe—she couldn’t even form the words to tell him what spot needed his attention. Just like she couldn’t look away when he winked at her right before he ran his tongue in one long, thorough swipe straight up her center.
“Closer?” he said against her.
“Please, get closer,” she begged.
“One?” He ran the pad of his thumb over her good spot, and she arched into him. Then he placed his mouth there. “Or two?”
“Two,” she cried.
“Just two?” His clever mouth ascended until she could hardly stand it. Bringing her right there, hovering on the edge, but not enough to send her over.
“Both,” she amended, although it came out sounding a lot like begging. “One and two.”
“Because two is always better than one, cupcake.” And to prove it, Ford found her perfect spot with his talented finger and pressed in the perfect way, while his mouth continued to nuzzle and tease. And her body began to coil and climb until she was racing so fast she broke through the finish line and collapsed against the lounger.
