Page 17 of The Heartbreaker
“Yes.”
“I’m getting a good read on you.”
“And?”
“You want this just as much as me.” I traced my thumb over her top lip before moving to the bottom, slowly inching my way across the plumpness.
Fuck, she felt good—to have her this close, to have my hands on her, to smell her in the air without having to search for her scent.
“And in your head right now, you’re thinking about what I’m going to feel like, what I’m going to taste like, if the sensation inside your body is going to dull or get stronger.” I leaned my face into her neck, taking a long, deep whiff of her perfume, and dragged the end of my nose up to her ear, where I placed my mouth right over the shell and whispered, “You’re already getting that answer, aren’t you?” I shifted to the front of her. “You’re surprised by how hard your heart is pounding—and I know it is, I can feel it. Mine is too. And that you’re still finding it so difficult to breathe, just like I am. And how the build-up is driving you absolutely fucking wild, like it’s doing to me.”
“Yes.”
“To what?”
“To all of it, Ridge?—”
I couldn’t wait. Not a second longer.
But instead of slamming us together, which I wanted to do, I drew her closer, letting her experience just how bold the wait and anticipation could be, and I met her somewhere in the middle. I halted when there was just the tiniest slice of distance between us. And from there, I let the pulse lengthen, making her pussy beat even fucking harder.
“Tell me you want this kiss,” I commanded.
Her eyes were already closed.
“Tell me, Addy.”
I didn’t need the confirmation—I already had it. I just wanted her simmering to the point where one touch would send her over the goddamn edge.
“I want it.” Her voice wasn’t tender; it was needy as hell.
Just the way I desired it to be.
I gave her lips one final stroke and aligned our mouths and melded us together.
My dick was already hard. It had been since I’d touched her. The feel of her alone had sent all the blood to my tip, and I was throbbing.
But now …shit. Now, I was aching to the point where it hurt.
Because what I’d learned in these last few seconds, what this intimate moment had really shown me, was that this wasn’t just a kiss.
This was a beginning.
And this gorgeous woman tasted as good as she smelled, fitting perfectly against me. Not just in the way we embraced, but in the way her body collapsed against mine, where there wasn’t even air separating us.
My hands stayed on her face, my tongue dipping in, circling, massaging.
There was no training needed. She knew just how to move her mouth, how to accept my tongue, how to work with me rather than against me.
When I’d called her over, I’d thought this would be enough.
The feel of her.
The taste.
But the longer my lips stayed on hers, all it did was goad me into wanting more.
My hands moved to her waist when I felt her weaken, taking the rest of her weight. I wasn’t gentle in the way I gripped her curves. I wanted her to feel me. I wanted her to know the strength I could bear. I wanted her to know there was zero possibility that I would let her fall.
