Page 64 of Hopeless Romantic
Only he wasn’t. He was too busy sliding his hands up her sides, slowly closing in on her lace bra, to be paying attention.
“Well, we could set some guidelines, so we each know where the other stands.”
“Rules like: If I lick it, then it’s mine?”
Heat pulsed low in her belly. “More like, managing expectations so no one ends up confused.”
He lifted his head. “Do I look confused?”
“No.” She swallowed. He looked a little wild, and on edge, like a big, beautiful turned-on man who wanted to rip each little red button off—with his hands tied behind his back.
“Why don’t you start with the first rule.” He dipped his head until his warm breath tickled her throat, and his lips were so close that when he whispered, “While I try to clarify things for you,” each word danced off her skin.
Beckett smiled as Levi kissed his way up to cover her mouth with his, then kissed her with a seriousness that made his position on matters crystal clear. Gone were the gentle exploration and teasing nips, and in their place was an urgency that swept over her like a storm in July.
“Rule number one,” she said, suddenly understanding Thomas’s need for rules. “No sleepovers.”
“Not a problem,” he said, rising up on his knees. In one fluid motion, Beckett was lying in the truck bed, the sleeping bag under her, and Levi on top of her. “When I get you in bed, there won’t be any sleeping.” He gently sank his teeth into her earlobe, then sucked it into his mouth. “Next?”
“Um.” She had a hard time concentrating with his mouth on her. “Rule two. What happens between us stays between us.”
The last thing she needed was Annie getting it into her matchmaking mind that there was long term potential here.
“Fine by me.” He lifted his head. “I’m not into sharing. Plus, that falls under the ‘If I lick it, then it’s mine’ rule.”
“Shhhh,” she said, pulling him back to her. “I can’t think with you talking.”
Apparently, that worked for him. With a bad-boy grin that stole her breath, he devoted his entire focus to applying kisses—hot, teasing kisses—down the column of her neck, paying special attention to the curve. When her layers of clothing obstructed his path, he peeled open the coat, then took his sweet time inspecting all one dozen of her jacket’s zippers.
“Sexy,” was all he said before she felt a confident tug at the base of her throat.
As he slowly worked the zipper lower and lower, his work-roughened knuckle against her skin had her pulse racing higher and higher.
His hands were masterful, one sliding under the back of her jacket, the other parting the front, while his heated gaze locked on hers. With a final slip of the zipper, her jacket fell to either side, allowing a rush of cool air to travel along the freshly exposed skin. Any chill quickly vanished when Levi bent his head, his lips whispering over the gentle hollow above her breastbone.
Lying beside her, he came up on his elbow to watch as his knuckle followed the path of tiny buttons on her silk shirt, from her belly to the front clasp of her bra. With a masterful flick of the wrist, the first button was toast. Much like its owner.
He moved the silk aside to bare the edge of the black lace hidden beneath and let out a groan that had a slow burn starting deep in her belly.
“Stunning,” he breathed, sending a little thrill through Beckett.
Never in her life had she been called something so fairytale as stunning. That he’d said it with raw male appreciation in his gaze only added to the anticipation as his fingers fiddled with the next button. This one didn’t come undone as easily.
“Rule three,” he said, his brow puckered in concentration. “If the buttons are too small for my hands, they end up on the floor.”
“Or, practice makes perfect,” she teased, reaching up to easily flick the bottom button free. Levi shoved her hands out of the way to try again.
Beckett laughed; she couldn’t help herself. Levi went about the task with such determination, his forehead furrowed, his lips forming a thin line. And as he grumbled over all the places the designer could shove his buttons, his expression resembled someone trying to defuse a bomb, not attempting to unbutton a blouse.
“You think this is funny?” he asked.
“Very.” She leaned back and took a moment to watch him. The careful way his fingers moved over the delicate silk, how his broad shoulders blocked the moon as he leaned closer, his gaze flickering to her every few moments as if gauging how she was feeling.
Alivewas the first word that came to mind. Actually,cherishedwas the first, but that felt a lot scarier thanalive, so she stayed with the safe choice.
A smug grin lit his face right as she felt the fabric give. He looked so proud of himself as he pushed the silk aside and the lace trim on her bra peeked out. His gaze dropped to admire his handiwork, his thumb brushing over the lace, and a flash of sheer male appreciation lit his eyes.
She watched breathlessly as his gaze slid ever-so-slowly from her breasts to her lips, and by the time he reached her eyes, there was a tenderness in his that melted her insides.
