Page 11 of Size Doesn't Matter

She felt so soft, not just the fabric of her dress but her—her hips, her arse, her breasts, her mouth. Everywhere he touched was soft and warm, but he needed more. He needed to feel her skin against his. Needed to touchher.

Sliding his fingers into her hair, he found the pins holding her updo in place and gently pulled them free, letting the long, dark strands cascade down her back and giving him something he could bury his fist in as he plundered her mouth once more. Sophie mewled against his lips, the little sound so perfectly feminine it made the semi-hardness he’d been sporting in his trousers since before they got in the elevator suddenly harden again, lengthen, beg for her attention.

“Jack.” Sophie moaned against his mouth and tugged his shirt free of his pants. “Need to touch you,” she said, sliding her hands under his shirt and over his stomach, electrifying his skin and making his muscles clench in response to her featherlight touch. Then she grabbed the waistband of his pants and tugged him closer.

But it still wasn’t close enough.

“Strip,” he demanded, twisting his fist in her hair. “Take the dress off. Now.”

Sophie’s eyelids shuttered, and her hot little mouth lifted in the smallest of smiles. He released her and she turned her back on him, sweeping her hair over one shoulder and revealing the zipper of her dress. “I’ll need some help with that,” she said, her voice soft and breathy.

So fucking sexy.

Jack slid one hand over her shoulder, then gently wrapped it around her throat, holding her still as he used his other hand to draw the zipper down. Inch by inch he revealed Sophie’s back to his lustful gaze, felt her pulse tick faster, heard her breathing grow more laboured. If her panties weren’t soaked by the time the zipper reached its end, he’d eat his own shirt.

Sophie slid the straps of her dress off her shoulders, then wriggled the clingy red fabric down over her bountiful curves until it pooled around her ankles.

“Fuck me,” he growled, not knowing where to look as he tried to take in the vision of all of her at once.

“I thought that was the idea,” she said over her shoulder, another one of those cheeky grins lifting the corners of her so-very-kissable mouth.

Jack caught her gaze, saw his own need reflected back at him in her rich, brown eyes. “Face me,” he murmured, letting his hand trail from her neck to her shoulder and down her arm until he held her hand in his.

If he thought she was stunning with the dress on, it was nothing to how he felt now that she was almost naked. He’d seen photos of her in lingerie before, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight of her actually standing before him dressed like that. Her body wrapped in satin and lace, the delicate black fabric designed to drive a man wild.

And it did.

Sophie Bennett was his fantasy come to life.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Instead of sighing and pulling away as she’d done earlier, scolding him for saying something so clichéd, her smile grew shy, and her gaze dropped away from his. “Thank you,” she said softly.

“Are you still hungry?”

She glanced up at him from under her lashes and nodded. “Famished,” she said. “But before we eat… may I?” She tugged at the top button of his shirt.

Jack nodded. “You may.”

Sophie popped the buttons open one after the other, her fingertips brushing against his chest with each torturously slow movement. Gritting his teeth, he fought back his need to laugh at her ticklish touches, and by the time she reached the last button, he was ready to rip his fucking shirt off and toss it over the balcony.

Jack wanted her hands on him, but not like this. He wanted her to explore his body, searing his flesh with her delicate fingers. He wanted to know exactly how her soft palm felt wrapped around his cock, how her lips and teeth and tongue felt as she swallowed him down her throat. He wanted her body under his, restrained and at his mercy as he took his pleasure in her.

Fuck.

He just wantedher.

Period.

But any man worth his salt knows his woman’s needs come first, and Sophie needed to eat. As soon as his shirt hit the decking, he said, “Come here.” Taking a seat at the table, he tugged her down onto his lap, groaning as her hip pressed against his erection.

“I like it when you make that sound,” she said, picking through the selections on the charcuterie board.

He wrapped an arm around her waist to hold her steady as his other hand settled on her warm thigh. “You like making me groan in sexual frustration?”

“Absolutely.”

“Why?” he asked, surprised to find he actually wanted to know her answer.

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