Page 41 of Possession Under the Southern Stars

“You didn’t need to.” He kisses my nose. “It’s okay to make it clear to your partner what you like. It’s nice and it helps the guy to know he’s on the right track. But I want you to understand that whatever you do is fine by me.”

His words fill me with light. I’m not going to be screaming the house down or directing the action any time soon, but it’s nice to know he’s not going to berate me for showing how I feel.

I nod, lifting a hand to cup his face. “You don’t know what this means to me, Fraser. You’re so patient.” I know it implies my ex wasn’t.

“I like foreplay,” he says. “I like kissing you and touching you. Why would I want to rush it?”

Foreplay. An alien word for me. I was lucky if Ian kissed me for a couple of minutes before he was fumbling at my skirt, preparing himself for the invasion.

I bite my bottom lip, and Fraser frowns, lifting my chin with a finger. “What is it?”

“I keep thinking about Ian. Not in a good way,” I add hastily. “Just thinking about how different you are. I don’t want to keep comparing. I want to forget about him. I don’t want him in my head anymore.”

“It’s natural,” he says, cupping my face. “Especially this first time with someone else. Try not to worry about it. I promise you that by the end of the night, you won’t be able to think of anyone else but me.”

His eyes gleam in the low light from the lamp beside the bed. He cultivates this appearance of being a bumbling professor, but for once the real Fraser shines through—determined and passionate once he fixes his gaze on something he wants.

He bends, and before I realize what he’s doing, he picks me up and wraps my legs around his waist. I squeal, and he laughs. As I kiss him, he carries me over to the bed, climbs on, turns, and lies back on the pillows, so I’m on top.

Sliding a hand to the back of my head, he kisses me again for a while, and then eventually holds me and turns so I’m beneath him. By this point my skirt is wrapped around us both and my hair is caught under his elbow, and all our clothing is twisted and rucked up. The alcohol has kicked in, and I feel breathless and reckless and uncaring that I must look a mess.

I so want this. I want him to show me what I’ve been missing. And I want to show him how I feel, and have him respond with pleasure. I want it all.

His eyes turn sultry as he strokes a finger along my chin, down my throat. “I’ve dreamed about kissing here,” he murmurs. “And now I finally get a chance to do it.” He presses his lips to mine, then kisses down my jaw and neck until he reaches the hollow at the base, and touches his tongue to it.

I shiver, and he groans. “It drives me crazy when you do that,” he says, kissing around to my ear. He kisses behind it, then traces his tongue around it.

I close my eyes. This guy is turning me to caramel inside.

He spends some time kissing along my hairline, behind my ear again, touching his tongue to the sensitive skin, and sucking the lobe. By the time he returns to my mouth, I’m filled with longing, and conscious of an ache growing deep inside.

Half of me expects him to grab a condom and slide inside me, but clearly he has other ideas. He kisses me for a long, longtime, and slowly I begin to relax as I grow used to his touch. His hands explore over the top of my clothes, stroking my shoulders and arms, and down my back, evoking all kinds of feelings in my stomach. He slides his hands down to my hips, then brushes along the outside of my thighs before returning them back up, so my skin is tingling all over.

He kisses my nose, my eyebrows, my cheeks, then back to my mouth, and whereas before his touch has been gentle and slow, this time he plunges his tongue inside, stepping up the heat. I gasp, but he doesn’t stop. All thoughts flee my mind as he continues to kiss me, invading all my senses, filling my nose with the scent of his cologne, my ears with his groans and murmurs, and my fingers with the feel of his muscles beneath his shirt and the smoothness of his jaw.

For the first time, he lifts the hem of my blouse and skates his fingers over my stomach, making it ripple in response. Mmm, that’s nice. He traces patterns over my skin until I get used to his touch, then slides his hand up to my breasts. I hold my breath as he strokes across the top of them, then I exhale with a shudder when he circles his thumb over the tips. He lifts his head and watches me, his eyes dark in the low light. I suck my bottom lip as he tugs the nipple gently.

“Time to get some clothes off,” he says, his voice husky. He rolls so I’m on top of him again and pushes me up. Shyly, I take my vest by the hem, peel it up my body, and drop it onto the floor. I’m wearing my most expensive bra and panties set from the Four Seasons that fits beautifully, its demi-cups satin trimmed with lace. My C-cup breasts are propped up on display, and Fraser groans before pulling me down for another kiss.

While he plunges his tongue into my mouth, he undoes the bra, slides the straps down my arms, and tosses it away. He fills his palms with my breasts, and I sigh at the feel of his warm hands on my skin.

He brushes his thumbs over my nipples, then teases them with his fingers. I bite my lip to stifle a moan, then I think about what he said, that it’s okay to let the guy know he’s on the right track. He wants me to be vocal. So when he does it again, I give a shy, appreciative murmur.

“Aaahhh…” His lips curve up against mine. “Good girl…”

It’s as if that one murmur flips a switch inside him, because he holds me and rolls so I’m under him, and his kisses turn more demanding and passionate, sending heat searing through us both. He lifts up, takes off his waistcoat, quickly unbuttons his shirt and throws it away, then lowers down and places hot kisses on my neck before kissing down to my breasts.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles, then traces around a nipple with his tongue before covering it with his mouth and sucking gently.

This time I couldn’t have stopped the moan leaving my lips if I’d tried. I slide my hand into his hair and clench my fingers, and he swaps to the other breast, teasing the nipple and sending sparks shooting through me.

I want to tell him how it feels, and that I love his gentle touch. I want to get Ian’s darkly disapproving gaze out of my mind. The only way I’m going to be able to do that is by filling my head with Fraser so there’s no room for Ian anymore.

Luckily, he seems keen to help with that, as he shifts over me, then kisses down my body. Settling between my legs, he slides my skirt up my thighs, pushing it up to reveal my lacy underwear.

I cover my face with my hands, my heart pounding, as he presses his lips to the triangle of material. “Oh God…” I whisper.

“Want me to stop?” he asks.

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