Page 50 of Singing For His Kiss

James’ heated breath drifted over the skin of her neck. “I’ve never known anyone like you, Elizabeth.”

“You either,” was all she could manage.

She was absorbed in those lips, those fingers. She clasped his taunt thigh as he slipped open the buttons of her shirt. The air was cool, but she didn’t have a chance to become cold before his mouth latched onto her breast, his fingers massaging the other.

He sucked a nipple into his mouth, flicking the tip with his tongue before laving the peak with firm swirls of his tongue. He worked fingers and tongue, driving her into a frenzy of a building torrent of craving.

Her head fell back, her mouth opened, gasping in bursts of air. Heat pooled in her sensitised abdomen. She wanted this, delighted in this, but there was so, so much more that pulled her desire.

Her shirt slid from her shoulders. His hands skated over her stomach, breasts, back, shoulders, followed with his hot mouth. He kissed her again, fingers splayed in her hair, pinning her mouth to his.

He gently slipped his hand between her legs. Even though she wore too-thick jeans, she jerked against his hand, gasping as pure sensation shot through her core. Her legs fell apart as his finger slid along the seam of her jeans from her pubic bone, right beneath her to her entrance.

She throbbed in time with her pulse, her clothing too thick, too tight. “God, James. That feels so good.” Her voice was nothing more than a breathy whisper.

“Liz’beth!” a small voice drifted through the house.

Elizabeth blinked, not quite comprehending the sound.

“Liz’beth!” Madeline’s voice held a panicky edge.

James rested his head against her shoulder and groaned. “Why can’t children just sleep once in a while?”

Elizabeth huffed a garbled sort of laugh. “It’s probably another nightmare.”

James scooped her shirt from the ground and helped her into back into it, doing the buttons up. His mouth twisted in an endearing half-twist. “If she didn’t call out, I don’t know if I would have stopped.”

A part – a large part - of her wished he hadn’t. She rose on shaking legs. She tucked her shirt into her jeans, finger combing her hair. Her lips throbbed where he’d kissed her, and her skin was overly sensitised.

“I…I’ll go to Madeline.”

James caught her before she could move away, her chin caught between his thumb and forefinger. “No I’ll go to her. Elizabeth, I don’t want to rush you into anything. Give you some space. I’m not a man who does this type of thing on a whim. I wanted to kiss you. Hell, I want to kiss you more. I want to touch you. I want to get to know you better, and that's what I intend to do. Not because you’re a nanny or the fact that you’re simply here and available. Because I want to. Because you’re the only woman I’ve met since Hanna who I’ve wanted to get to know better. Do I make myself clear?”

All she could do was nod, her mind reeling. She didn’t quite know what to say. She hadn’t had a man treat her quite like James did. He threaded his fingers through hers, leading her to the door and up the stairs.

He turned and pressed his lips to her knuckles. “I want do to nothing more than follow you into your room, but I have a daughter who is intent on wrecking my evening. Goodnight, Elizabeth. Sweet dreams.”

He stepped close, catching her lips in another kiss. He rested his forehead against hers, breathing deeply.

“Daddy! Liz’beth!”

“That is not a voice to ignore.” He reluctantly let her go and disappeared into Madeline’s room. It took her a while to gather her wits, then she simply stood, pressing trembling fingers to her mouth.

Maybe, just maybe she was wrong about James. Maybe, just maybe her life was about to change. Maybe, just maybe she’d have the future she only dared to dream about.

Maybe.

Just. Maybe.

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