Page 85 of Hopeless Romantic
She could never be called curvy by any means. On a good day, she was a full and respectable B who, with her miracle bra, could hold her own against the over-frosted cupcakes from Levi’s past.
His breath caught when her nipples beaded under the cool night air, telling him she was having a good day.
“You good?” she finally asked.
“Just taking a moment.” He ran a hand over his jaw.
“Beck, I might need some help here,” he finally said. Palms flat, fingers splayed, he took his sweet time smoothing his way over her hips and up each rib, his thumb grazing everything in between. “Because I feel like I haven’t eaten in months, and I’m standing in front of an all-you-can-eat dessert buffet, suddenly realizing I should have grabbed a bigger plate.”
Beckett started to argue that she could feel his real deal, and it was more than big enough, but then he was kissing her. Hot and frantic, skipping right over the niceties, and getting her worked up in record time.
“I thought you didn’t know where to start,” she said.
“I figured it out,” he said silkily, his mouth brushing her ear. The low rasp in his voice ignited a hum of anticipation under her skin. So did the way he abruptly stood, plopping her ass on the bar top and stepping between her legs.
“Let me know if you approve.” Her bra slid to join the pile on the floor, exposing her bare breasts. “I guess practice does make perfect,” she breathed, because she hadn’t even felt him undo it.
“We haven’t even gotten to the good stuff.”
Beckett watched breathlessly as he dipped his head lower and lower until his hot mouth settled on her bare breast, sending her hopes for the night soaring. Man of his word, he didn’t rush, didn’t let up, took his time to learn what she liked, methodically nipping and kissing, worshiping her into a frenzy, before gliding to the other and back again.
By his third pass, Beckett’s body was on fire, shaking with want and desperate for more. So much more that her eyes burned.
“Feels so good,” she groaned, her hands in his hair, locking him to her.
Other than smiling against her skin, he didn’t respond, except to place an openmouthed kiss right above her belly button.
Then one below.
And another even lower.
Then those very deft fingers were on the move again, tugging at the waist of her leggings until—bingo. He put his mouth right where the lace met skin. And when her leggings wouldn’t go any lower, he gave her butt a little pat.
Eager to get to thescreaming his namepart, Beckett did her best to assist, lifting her hips so he could slide her leggings off. Which he did, right along with her boots, stripping her down into nothing but teal panties, her red cape, and space-girl buns. Amazing what the proper motivation could do.
Properly motivated herself, she hooked her thumbs into his front pockets, pulling him close enough to reach his jeans zipper.
“Uh-uh.” He stopped her. “Tonight is about you enjoying some of that me-first time you never get.”
“But what about you?”
“To the winner go the spoils.” He kissed her cheek, then her nose. “Now lie back and let me spoil you.”
She did as told, and when his mouth came down on hers, it wasn’t sweet or warm. It was inferno from the word go. His kisses went deeper, became hotter, and Beckett couldn’t keep her hands off him.
Sliding her palms down his chest, she blindly found the hem of his shirt and tugged it up as fast as she could. Only he was faster. Laughing as he leaned back.
“Please?” she asked. “Otherwise I’ll feel underdressed.”
“You are in the perfect state of dress,” he said, looking at her as if she were the milk and he was the tiger ready to lap her up. She watched breathlessly as his gaze slid ever-so-slowly from her breasts to her stomach, and by the time he reached her panties, she was shaking all over.
She reached again, and again he leveled her with an authoritarian look. “Just your shirt?” she asked sweetly.
She knew the moment he gave in, because he sighed one of his “what am I going to do with you?” sighs, which always felt more like an endearment than a rhetorical question. “Why do I feel a rule coming on?”
“No rule. Just the shirt?” She held out her hand, and he obliged. Smiling, she tossed his shirt over her head and leaned back on her palms. “Let the pampering commence.”
“Now lie back and enjoy.”
