Page 55 of You Had Me at Chocolate

White, hot wanton need speared her to the counter.

“Yeah…” he murmured after a loaded moment. “That’s pretty decadent.”

“Uh-huh,” Clem agreed, huskily. And she was hungry for more. Hell, she was ravenous. “The possibilities are endless.”

She wriggled across the one foot that separated them, her slippery skirt easing the way until her thigh was pressing into his hip. If she’d wanted, she could have leaned in and dropped a kiss on top of the big, rounded haunch of his shoulder. Instead, she dipped her finger into her cup again, scooping up a dollop and lifting it to his mouth.

“Your turn.”

Clem’s breath hitched when his lips parted and he leaned in to suck her finger into the hot, wet cavern of his mouth. A ragged sigh slid from her lips and her pulse trebled at the electric swirl of his tongue. He might as well be licking between her legs now because that was exactly where she was feeling it as he held her gaze and sucked her finger clean.

She whimpered, a sound that came from the deep, dark recesses of her throat but also from someplace that wasn’t of her body.

A place utterly primal.

Clearly satisfied that he’d done a proper job, he relinquished her finger, pulling away very, very slowly. Her finger made the same wet phht as it slid from Jude’s mouth and she almost moaned at the loss of the heat and the wet and the sex of it.

Dropping her gaze, she contemplated his chest. The defined ridge of his collarbone looked like a good place, as did the hollow at the base of his throat. But his nipples called to her like a siren song and, watching herself as if she was out of her body, she smeared the mousse onto the pinky-brown surface. The quick, sharp intake of his breath and the way his nipple hardened beneath the pad of her finger had Clem salivating.

She didn’t wait—she couldn’t. No time to admire how good he looked or contemplate how he might taste. When her finger was done, her mouth followed and she swore she could feel the deep low rumble of his groan vibrating against her lips as they closed over his nipple and sucked.

He definitely swayed as she licked at the mousse, uncovering the sweet treat beneath and his hand slid just north of her knee and gripped. Her thigh buzzed, little bolts of electricity shooting up the inside, touching down right between her legs, zapping at her clitoris.

Clem was dizzy when she was finally satisfied with the job she’d done and lifted her head. Her belly looped twice at the ragged pant of his breath and the way his pupils all but obliterated the peridot of his eyes leaving only a thin rim of pale green.

“See?” she asked, her pulse thrumming through her ears. “Endless.”

“Yeah.” His voice sounded raw and he swallowed. “I see.”

Then his hand slid to her other knee, applying pressure, urging her legs apart and boldly stepping between them when she opened. But he wasn’t content with just standing there, his hand reaching for the fabric of her skirt and dragging it up—up, up, up—his gaze falling on her knees as they were bared, his hands traveling higher and higher on her exposed flesh until it was rucked high on her thighs.

Clem’s pulse thrummed everywhere now, the heat between her legs flaring.

“Take here, for example,” he murmured.

Lifting his gaze, he met and captured hers as he dipped a finger in the nearest mousse. Clem didn’t know the flavor, she didn’t care, all she was conscious of was the pebbling of her nipples as the cool mousse met the hot flesh of her thigh and the intensity in his eyes. They held her in his thrall as he smeared the mousse in a line stopping just above her knee.

And when he dipped his head—lower and lower and lower—her breath hitched until the first warm puff of air caressed her skin and she let it out on a rush, more moan than sigh, and she thanked god she’d worn a skirt today.

The sear of his tongue had her reaching involuntarily for his head, her hand pushing into the short length of his chestnut hair and holding tight. This was how it would look Clem thought absently.

When he went down.

His reddy-brown head between her legs, his breath hot on her thighs. Her knuckles turning white as she held him firmer, urging him to keep going without saying a word. But then he stopped and his head lifted as his hands slid to the sides of her thighs, his tongue darting out to lap at first his bottom lip, then his top, which turned everything inside her belly to jelly.

“That was a… good example,” Clem said, as his gaze dropped and settled on the buttons of her sweater.

“Oh, I’m definitely getting the hang of it. This sweater.” His eyes lifted. “Is it new? Or expensive?”

“Neither.” Clem swallowed, her voice ridiculously husky as his eyes dropped again, staring at those buttons like he was trying to pop them through sheer will power alone. “It’s a favorite though.”

His jaw clenched and unclenched for a beat or two as if he was weighing up his options. “Fuck it,” he muttered. “I’ll buy you another one.”

Then his hands slid to the hem, grasping it on either side of the buttons, and ripping in an upward motion. Clem gasped as they popped and flew everywhere. Pinging off the counter. The fridge behind them. The floor.

She stared at where, mere seconds ago, her sweater had been but was now her bare belly, and her breasts encased in a green-and-blue, satin-and-lace demi cup bra. “I could have undone them.”

“Not fast enough,” he growled absently as he stared at her, too. Like he was trying to commit every inch of her to memory. Hell, he was staring so damn hard she wondered if he was trying to calculate the weight of each boob, his gaze utterly intent.

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