ambrosia.
Each cell of his flesh was drinking her in and becoming intoxicated with her.
He’d never felt this with a kiss in his life. He’d never felt his entire body come alive in quite this way. And it was definitely coming alive. Every nerve ending was suddenly tingling with heat. His flesh was drinking in her touch at every point of contact.
Pressing her tighter against the trunk of the tree he’d braced her against, he suddenly wanted more than he’d ever believed he would want from a woman.
He wanted her against him. Naked. Just this willing. Just this hot, with nothing between them. No clothes. No gowns. No second thoughts. No regrets.
No knowledge of where it could end.
In her bed or in his.
He wanted her lush, naked body spread beneath him, her thighs parted for him, her cries filling his ears as he sank inside her.
His lips lifted from hers just enough to move to the side and place a delicate kiss at the corner of hers. “Skye, you’re killing me here.”
Her head turned, following him, brushing against his lips.
And all thought evaporated.
It could have been the first time he’d kissed a woman for all the finesse he could grasp. There was no finesse. There was no sense of time or place as he kissed her like a man dying for touch, for sensual pleasure.
And he couldn’t understand how such pleasure could exist in such a simple touch as two lips melded together.
His tongue swept over hers, then tangled with it in an exotic dance. His hands slid down her back, gripped her hips, then slid to her thighs and lifted them.
Ah hell yes. He wasn’t about to break the kiss again to groan in pure undiluted fervor.
He wouldnt do it.
He wouldn’t remember the past, the present, or the nightmares he often walked the night to forget.
Tugged at the strands of hair he held, his entire body tightened at the throttled little moan that fell from her lips. He ground his hips against hers. He swore he could feel the heat and dampness of her sweet little pussy through their clothes.
Against his chest her breasts pressed like firm, hot weights, her nipples hard enough he could feel them through his shirt.
He wanted to do more than to feel them through cloth. He wanted his hands on them, his fingers playing with them. He wanted to take them into his mouth and taste the sweetness of them.
Pushing his hand beneath the hem of her shirt, he stroked up her stomach until he was cupping one of the full globes with desperate fingers as she arched against him.
He’d never believed pleasure like this could exist in just a kiss. Hell, not for a man. A woman maybe; they were softer, sweeter. They thrived on the romance and the soft words and gentle touches. A man was just fucking hungry.
And he was damned hungry, but he was also experiencing the pleasure. The pleasure of touching her, the pleasure of her touch.
But even in that hunger he felt something more. A something that had his self-preservation instincts screaming out in alarm. A something he knew could very well end up destroying them both.
* * *
Skye wasn’t expecting the sensations that assailed her.
She hadn’t expected it when she had realized there was a confrontation going on between him and someone else.
She’d had no idea it was his grandfather.
She’d had no idea it would end here.
Skye tightened her hold on the man leading her through an abyss of sensation and didn’t know whether to cry out in fear or scream in pleasure.
She was crying in pleasure.
Shards of pure, unadulterated excitement sang through her body as his hand cupped her breast, his thumb and forefinger gripping her nipple and applying just the right amount of pressure. As she gasped, arching to him, a shudder raced through her body and seemed to explode between her thighs. The detonation was an explosion of hunger. Her senses were flooded with a need that didn’t make sense, as her sex grew impossibly wetter, preparing, begging for possession.
A startled moan of
Each cell of his flesh was drinking her in and becoming intoxicated with her.
He’d never felt this with a kiss in his life. He’d never felt his entire body come alive in quite this way. And it was definitely coming alive. Every nerve ending was suddenly tingling with heat. His flesh was drinking in her touch at every point of contact.
Pressing her tighter against the trunk of the tree he’d braced her against, he suddenly wanted more than he’d ever believed he would want from a woman.
He wanted her against him. Naked. Just this willing. Just this hot, with nothing between them. No clothes. No gowns. No second thoughts. No regrets.
No knowledge of where it could end.
In her bed or in his.
He wanted her lush, naked body spread beneath him, her thighs parted for him, her cries filling his ears as he sank inside her.
His lips lifted from hers just enough to move to the side and place a delicate kiss at the corner of hers. “Skye, you’re killing me here.”
Her head turned, following him, brushing against his lips.
And all thought evaporated.
It could have been the first time he’d kissed a woman for all the finesse he could grasp. There was no finesse. There was no sense of time or place as he kissed her like a man dying for touch, for sensual pleasure.
And he couldn’t understand how such pleasure could exist in such a simple touch as two lips melded together.
His tongue swept over hers, then tangled with it in an exotic dance. His hands slid down her back, gripped her hips, then slid to her thighs and lifted them.
Ah hell yes. He wasn’t about to break the kiss again to groan in pure undiluted fervor.
He wouldnt do it.
He wouldn’t remember the past, the present, or the nightmares he often walked the night to forget.
Tugged at the strands of hair he held, his entire body tightened at the throttled little moan that fell from her lips. He ground his hips against hers. He swore he could feel the heat and dampness of her sweet little pussy through their clothes.
Against his chest her breasts pressed like firm, hot weights, her nipples hard enough he could feel them through his shirt.
He wanted to do more than to feel them through cloth. He wanted his hands on them, his fingers playing with them. He wanted to take them into his mouth and taste the sweetness of them.
Pushing his hand beneath the hem of her shirt, he stroked up her stomach until he was cupping one of the full globes with desperate fingers as she arched against him.
He’d never believed pleasure like this could exist in just a kiss. Hell, not for a man. A woman maybe; they were softer, sweeter. They thrived on the romance and the soft words and gentle touches. A man was just fucking hungry.
And he was damned hungry, but he was also experiencing the pleasure. The pleasure of touching her, the pleasure of her touch.
But even in that hunger he felt something more. A something that had his self-preservation instincts screaming out in alarm. A something he knew could very well end up destroying them both.
* * *
Skye wasn’t expecting the sensations that assailed her.
She hadn’t expected it when she had realized there was a confrontation going on between him and someone else.
She’d had no idea it was his grandfather.
She’d had no idea it would end here.
Skye tightened her hold on the man leading her through an abyss of sensation and didn’t know whether to cry out in fear or scream in pleasure.
She was crying in pleasure.
Shards of pure, unadulterated excitement sang through her body as his hand cupped her breast, his thumb and forefinger gripping her nipple and applying just the right amount of pressure. As she gasped, arching to him, a shudder raced through her body and seemed to explode between her thighs. The detonation was an explosion of hunger. Her senses were flooded with a need that didn’t make sense, as her sex grew impossibly wetter, preparing, begging for possession.
A startled moan of
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