Page 169 of The Re-Proposal

I chuckle with lust. “Are you afraid?”

“No.” She wraps a leg over me, hooking it at my waist. “I want this. I even dreamed of it.”

A low animal-like noise rips out of me. “You dreamed of me?”

“Yes.”

“So did I.” I use my tongue to trace a hot, messy line on her throat. “Every night.”

“Cody,” she murmurs, breathless.

“What was I doing to you in that dream?”

“You think I’ll make it easy for you?” Her smile is dangerous.

“Playing hard to get?” I slip my hands under her dress and meet fabric instead of skin. Snarling, I growl, “Are you wearing tights?”

“Spanx.”

“Take it off.”

“You want me to take off my Spanx before I take off my dress?”

“You’re very mouthy.” I nip at her neck, dropping kisses over her throat and collarbone. “Was that a part of your dream?”

“If I say yes?”

My fingers press against her through the tights and I watch her face change in an instant. The teasing drains away, replaced by wide-eyed pleasure. She whimpers, “Cody.”

“Still want to talk, princess?”

She shakes her head.

Thoughts of what’s underneath this gown call to me. Taunt me. I hate this dress with a fiery passion. I hate those tights. I hate anything that’s standing between her supple brown body and my ravaging hands.

“Let me show you why reality is better.”

I reach behind her dress. The sound of a zipper groaning as it splits open mingles with our quickening breaths. She slides her dress to the ground and I almost lose it right there. She’s an angel. My angel. Perfect in every way.

I can’t wait to reacquaint my tongue with every inch of her body and feast on her until she’s nothing but a limp, shivering puddle of satisfaction.

My body pangs with need, spiking a physical alarm through my whole system like a man who’s been denied his favorite dessert for years suddenly presented with a tray of it.

I move my lips back against hers. My tongue plunges inside her mouth, desperate for another taste. My hands roam her chest and my mouth soon follows, drawing lines down the same path.

She throws her neck back and I pull her deeper into my arms, flicking my tongue against her skin and making her pant. When I’ve said my hellos to her top half, I slide my lips lower and kiss both her inner thighs.

Sweet mother…

Heat ravages me. Need lurches against my pants zipper, screaming to be buried so deep inside her they’ll never find the end of me.

I push her thighs further apart and approach reverently.

The sounds she makes when I tease her fill the room. My hands and tongue are a composer, drawing out a symphony of lyrical mewls from her mouth, setting the whole damn house on fire.

She’s as desperate as I am, arching up and down against my invasion. Her hand digs into my hair, her nails retracing the lines she etched in my scalp on the balcony. Those sweet, sweet moans of hers spur me on, urging me to lick, to suck, to unravel her inch by inch.

Viciously, I explore her until my fingers are slick from the pattern of tracing out one word.

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