Page 57 of Love By a Landslide

Lucy carefully adjusted her position and, without breaking the kiss, settled a leg on either side so she sat astride his lap, pressing more firmly against him. She draped her arms around his tense shoulders and scraped her fingernails along the nape of his neck.

Releasing the satiny thickness of her hair from his grip, Jonathan raked his hands down her sides and buried them beneath her shirt. He palmed her back, flattening her breasts against his chest. The buttons on her shirt pressed into his skin, applying a stinging hint of pain, all while she focused her squirms into an achingly slow, steady rhythm.

Lucy slid a hand between them, placing a palm directly over his heart. He understood the gesture and pulled back to respect her wish to slow down. But she surprised him by lifting her arms languidly above her head, glancing down at her shirt, and then back up at him. Jonathan had no clue how he kept himself from ripping the shirt open so buttons flew everywhere. Instead, he followed her request and lifted the hem slowly up and off. Her shimmering hair tumbled around her, landing just above her elbows. She gave a wanton smile, bottom lip captured between her teeth. Slowly, she reached around behind her back and unclasped her sports bra. The fuchsia straps slipped from her lightly freckled shoulders and fell about her waist, revealing the most breathtakingly beautiful breasts he’d ever witnessed.

Jonathan thanked his lucky stars for the enchantress before him. He thanked her ex for setting her free. He even thanked that damned landslide for trapping them together. He didn’t deservethis.

Didn’t deserve her.

And yet, as she arched her back, offering herself to him, Jonathan found he could not deny her. He dipped his head and created lazy circles around her pert nipple, pulling her more tightly to him with each of her unintelligible whimpers. He flicked his tongue over the tip, slowly at first, then with increasing speed and pressure. Her hips began a slow rhythmic glide forward and back against his legs. Each time, she would brush against his aching erection, then pull away, brush against, then pull away.

Jonathan slowly descended into madness.

The scent of cooling eucalyptus and peppermint was a euphoric contrast against the heady warmth of her arousal. Lucy’s moans and gasps of pleasure intensified, overpowering the crackling of the fire. Jonathan pulled back and paused to take in the sight of her before dipping to give equal attention to her other breast. Head thrown back and flames dancing behind her, Lucy was a vision. A goddess fully giving herself over to unbridled indulgence and sensuality.

He cupped her buttocks as her hips slipped back and forth on his lap, adding delicious pressure to the motion. His arousal pulsed with each skim, and he licked and sucked her with the same cadence as she built to a sweeping crescendo.

“Oh,” she gasped. “Oh . . . please.”

Is she about to . . .?

She was going to come, and it would be Jonathan’s undoing. He groaned and sucked harder. She moved faster. Then he grazed his teeth lightly over her pearled nipple, and she jerked her hips forward.

And Jonathan let out a sharp, unholy yelp of pain.

Chapter twenty-nine

Lucy

Lucy froze as Jonathan let out a shout of agony.

Oh, god. Oh, god! I broke him.

She held her breath, too terrified to move a muscle. Jonathan’s hands sprung from her like he’d touched a hot iron then flew to his lower back. Eyes tight, face contorted in pain, he held as still as possible. They sat there in a stalemate.

Lucy braved a slow exhalation. Her heart thundered in her chest, acutely aware of the lingering ache of desire in her low belly.

“Jonathan?” she asked just above a whisper.

He let out a grunt, acknowledging that she’d spoken. Aside from shallow, ragged breaths, he made no other sound.

“What do you need me to do?”

“Off,” he ground out.

Lucy nodded emphatically. “Yeah, ok, I can do that.”

“Carefully.” Then as though remembering himself and the situation, he added gently, “Please.”

Slowly—oh, so slowly—she shifted to one side so her right foot settled flat on the ground. Performing painstakingly cautious movements, she dismounted her—once again—incapacitated guide.

Crouched beside him, she went to lay a hand on his shoulder but thought better of it and wrung her hands together instead.

“How can I help you?” she asked.

Lucy looked Jonathan up and down. He’d opened his eyes and trained them on the fire. A few level breaths hinted that the pain was steadily receding. Thankfully. The rigidness of his spine softened. Releasing one hand from his back, he leaned forward and rested a forearm on his knee. His light brown hair—or was it dark blond?—shone golden in the firelight. The hard lines of his jaw tensed and released. Long lashes splayed out on his strong cheekbones with each lazy blink. Holy hell, he was sexy.

Focus, lady!

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