Page 43 of Tru Blue
He released his hold on his jeans. “Gemma, you know how I react to you. If my pants come off…” He was breathing hard. She was hardly breathing at all. His hand pushed beneath her hair, embracing the nape of her neck. “Gemma,” he said roughly, something primal brimming in his eyes.
She slid her hand from his chest to his cheek and felt tension pooling there and restraint in his muscles as she tried to pull him closer.
“Gemma.” The warning in his voice was clear. His gaze smoldered, traveling over her face, searching for what, she wasn’t sure. “If I could change my past, I would,” he said heatedly.
His nearness was like a drug, luring her in. She wanted to crawl beneath his skin and feel what he felt, to experience his strength and ease his pain.
“I’m not going to run.” She’d had no idea the promise was coming, but she was driven by a sense of urgency, a carnal need to be closer to him. She leaned in, unable to find any more words.
He pulled her to him, claiming her in a hot, hard kiss that sent her senses reeling, and then they were kissing wildly, pawing and clutching, unable to get their fill. He took the kiss deeper, held her tighter, and it felt exquisite. During their days apart, she’d dissected his past until there was nothing left, and still it hadn’t touched this avalanche of need bowling her over. She clung to his neck as they kissed and nipped and made maddening sounds of desire. He shifted his weight, and she lowered herself down on her back, bringing him with her. His hips rocked against hers in a greedy, hypnotizing rhythm, and he slowed the kiss, sweetly draining any remaining doubts.
“Gemma,” he said against her mouth. “I think we’ve been here before.”
She smiled. “Not where we’re headed, we haven’t.”
His wolfish grin returned, and his eyes filled with wicked desires. “Stop me now if you’re going to stop me, because I’ve thought about making love to you, I’ve thought about fucking you, and I’ve thought about begging for your forgiveness—and once our clothes are off, you’re getting all of me. I won’t be able to stop.”
“Don’t stop,” was all she could manage.
His mouth slanted over hers, hard and hungry. Gemma clawed at his back. His hands moved up and down her sides, over her breasts, down her hips, like he couldn’t believe she was lying beneath him. She was right there with him, stroking his skin, reveling in the feel of his weight bearing down on her. The kiss was soft and rough at once, easing, then flaming, bringing waves of ecstasy with each thrust of his hips and sparking white-hot tremors that burned through her, clawing at her core. He tore her shirt over her head, and her bra followed as his talented mouth claimed her breast. She clutched his head, a stream of noises escaping her lungs. She didn’t care. Her impatience grew with every slick of his tongue, with the feel of his lips soft and then hard, and then his mouth was on hers again. His rough whiskers scratched her cheeks and his hands—Lord, those hands—moved over her body with confidence and control—adeptly melting everything in their wake, and it was all she could do to keep breathing.
DRIVEN BY TOO many emotions to think about, and one he couldn’t ignore, Truman rose above Gemma, looking down at the gorgeous, trusting woman beneath him. “I want you in my bed.”
She smiled up at him, a bright flare of desire beaming in her eyes as she pulled him back down to her. “You don’t have a bed anymore.”
“I’m buying a bed tomorrow.”
He crashed his mouth to hers again, both of them laughing, but those smiles quickly turned to ravenous pleas of passion. Heat stroked down the length of him. He loved the feel of her bare breasts against his chest, her heart beating fast and furious for him. He wanted to possess every inch of her, to claim her as his own. He was so used to fast, meaningless sex, where he got in, got off, and got out. This desire was new and so fucking real. He didn’t want to just fuck her—he wanted to make love to her, with her, for her. He was powerless to temper his greed as he kissed and sucked his way down her body and yanked open her jeans.
He glanced up, needing her approval one final time before he took his first taste. She lifted her hips, pushing her jeans down and giving him the green light he sought. Her jeans fell to the floor, and his breath rushed from his lungs in a guttural groan. He forced himself to take a moment to feel her luscious hips fill his palms, to press kisses to her inner thighs as she writhed beneath him, his throbbing cock begging to be set free. He slicked his tongue over the cleft of her sex, and she moaned into the night. Good fucking hell, she tasted divine, and the scent of her arousal beckoned him like metal to magnet. She was so damn sexy he uttered a curse, gritting his teeth. He should go slow, to pleasure her in every way possible, but slow would have to wait. He needed her now. Lifting her legs, he guided them over his shoulders and covered her sex with his mouth. He sucked and licked and thrust his tongue in so deep her inner muscles clenched around it, spurring him to take more. She rocked and moaned and clawed at his shoulders as he took his fill. Bringing his fingers to her center, he thrust them in and sucked her clit between his teeth. Her hips bolted up, her thighs pressed against his face, and she cried out his name in a heated whisper. He knew she was being quiet for the kids, and that made his heart swell even more.
