Page 59 of The Autumn We Fell in Love

Skin on fire, I gently take his bottom lip in my teeth and tug. He growls and pulls away so he can bury his face in my neck.

I gasp at the same time my clit jumps at this fresh sensation. In the past, neck kisses have tickled and left me giggling. But beneath Laurent’s ministrations, I’m pretty sure I could orgasm just from this. My pussy lips vibrate and pulse in agreement.

Just when I think I can’t take anymore without exploding right there in the town square, Laurent pulls away. He’s breathing as hard as I am, his gaze hooded and heavy on me.

He steps close again. “I want you so badly, Shira,” he purrs in my ear, making me shiver. “Tell me I’m imagining how good this feels. Tell me you feel it too.”

Cupping his face in my palms, I stare directly into his flint eyes and reply, “I’ve never wanted anyone or anything more than I want you.”

Those dark eyes spark. A corner of his lips curve to the night sky. “Let me take you home?”

I don’t miss the unspoken question.Let me take you home to make sweet, sweet love to you?Wordlessly, I nod.

The other corner of his mouth joins the first and he gives me that beautiful smile, popping one eyebrow. “Good. I’m driving.”

It’s not a question. And I have no problem giving Laurent what he wants. Rummaging in my purse, I hand him the keys to my car.

Sure, I get anxious on the road. But the way I’m feeling right now makes me think that this trip, with this man, might be very different. I’m willing to give it a try, to trust Laurent in a way I don’t trust many — or, really, any — others.

He seizes my hand again and leads me to my car. He opens the front passenger door and holds it open for me. Clutching his hand and feeling so damn fancy, I lower myself into the seat.

Instead of moving around to the other side of the car, he drops to one knee right there on the street. My mouth dangles, wondering what could possibly be coming next.

With gentle hands, he takes my face, smoothing my heated cheeks with his thumbs as he kisses me.

The butterfly wings in my belly explode all over again as he, lips still on mine, drags his hands down to my chest. He caresses my breasts, curving his palms to their shape. Now his thumbs have found my nipples, pressing into them through my clothing.

Then, pulling his face away, he drops his hands lower.

My head rocks back onto the headrest, throat exposed, eyes unfocused as he squeezes my plentiful hips through my dress. He trails light fingertips down the tops of my thighs, then slides his hands between them.

The butterflies in my belly catch on fire like so many phoenixes. My body is liquid and flame as Laurent smooths his hands beneath the hem of my dress up toward the apex of my legs. His eyes are fixed on me, waiting for me to make the slightest noise of protest.

I love that he’s considerate and gentle, but he needn’t worry. This is everything I want. I don’t care who sees. My need for Laurent far surpasses such trivial matters like propriety.

And then he’s there, his fingers stroking my slit through my sodden panties, my clit throbbing. I jump when he moves his touch beneath the soaked-through fabric, diving into my mound of curls.

His thumb nudges my thumping button. A hissing sound of pleasure that I don’t recognize escapes my own lips. I lift my hips, pressing into his touch, needing more.

Grinning, he obliges.

His fingers are inside me, easily penetrating me with the natural lubrication he’s been causing to flood my nether region all night. His thumb spirals over my clit, nudging and pressing and demanding.

My head is in the clouds. No, I’m floating free in the currents of the wild ocean. Wait, that’s not right. I am the earth herself, fragrant and fertile, opening a yawning chasm of pleasure.

And then I am everything and nothing as my arousal crests. Laurent lowers his head and, pressing his face to my most intimate place through my dress, he hums into my nether lips.

The vibration of his sounds takes me higher and deeper and wilder than I have ever been. I spill over the edge of the cliff he’s built with his touch, cascading into a mewling cacophony of ecstatic release.

I don’t know if I’m loud or quiet, if anyone or no one notices. Nothing matters but feeling and feeling and feeling what Laurent does to me.

Slowly, I come back to reality, summoned back to life by Laurent’s soft lips on mine.

Eyes fluttering open, I stroke his back. I’m almost surprised to touch fabric. How can we both be clothed — well, mostly clothed, in my case — when I feel utterly exposed in the most beautiful way?

“Hey,” he breathes, smiling gently.

“That was . . .” I start, then can’t manage to find the words.

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