Page 20 of Undoing His Innocent Enemy (Hot Winter Escapes)

This time, she took control of the kiss, thrusting her tongue deep into his mouth. Licking and sucking as he let her lead.

They devoured each other, but as they came up for air a second time, she knew it wasn’t enough. Not to satisfy the ache building at her core.

His hands had remained on her hips, the tremble of reaction suggesting he was using the last threads of his control to keep them there.

She took one of his large hands and placed it firmly on her backside.

He shuddered, his fingers tensing and releasing as he stroked the firm flesh. Then he slanted his lips across hers and lifted her into another all-consuming kiss.

It seemed to take an eternity, but eventually he took the hint and slid one large palm beneath the waistband of her sweatpants and panties. His callused fingers rasped across her aching flesh, his moans matching her sobs as he pressed his palm to her vulva.

Her need soared, flooding her panties with moisture.

He found the sodden folds, then stepped back abruptly, yanking his hand out of her underwear. His gaze was fierce on hers and full of—what was that, exactly? Because it looked like a combination of awe and astonishment.

‘You like my touch?’ he rasped, his breathing ragged.

Why did he look so surprised? And why did that only make the hot weight between her legs rise to squeeze around her ribs?

She nodded, because he seemed to need an answer. ‘Yes. I love having your hands on me.’

As he continued to stare at her, the heat from her core rose to burn her collarbone.

But before she could become embarrassed by her own enthusiasm, his gaze sank to her breasts. He cradled her neck, his touch firm again, and possessive, his gaze fierce as it roamed over the tight nipples clearly visible through the thin undershirt. But again, he hesitated.

The moment might have been awkward. She’d never met a man who hadn’t wanted to take the initiative, especially as she had made it so clear she wanted him. But something about his reticence felt empowering.

Why not take the initiative yourself, Cara?

She grabbed the hem of her thermal undershirt and stripped it off over her head. His gaze narrowed, scalding her skin, the approval in his eyes almost as breathtaking as the desire.

She fumbled around for the back hook on her bra. How did you do this sort of thing gracefully? But it was clear she didn’t need to worry about looking seductive. Because his gaze was riveted to her as she finally managed to discard the scrap of lace.

His face lifted to hers, awareness lighting his cheeks, the fire in his eyes turning them to a bright silver. It was all the validation she needed.

He appeared to be holding his breath. Then his lungs released, and he ran his tongue over his bottom lip.

‘You are beautiful,’ he said, his tone thick with reverence, his gaze rich with fascination.

And she felt truly beautiful for the first time in her life.

Her nipples hardened, elongating under that intense gaze. He lifted his hand, his expression reverent as he ran his thumb under the rigid peak.

Her own breath guttered out in an audible sob.

He paused, but didn’t drop his hand, then he began to explore in earnest. His touch was careful and patient but full of purpose as he grazed the nipple with his thumb, lifted the weight in his palm, circled the areola in a methodical but profoundly sensual caress.

He watched her intently as the vice tightened at her core, the ache becoming painful.

She shuddered, the desire pouring between her thighs as he bent to lick the peak at last. He worked one nipple, then the other, sucking and tugging, making the arrows of pleasure dart to her core.

She felt trapped by her own desire, the insistent caresses, his determined touch reminding her of his long strong fingers on the pencil as he sketched in his workshop... Or his competent hands on the traditional tools at the lake. She grasped his head, her own dropping back, her body so alive with sensation she was struggling to breathe.

She’d never realised her breasts were so sensitive, but she could feel the pressure building at her core. Insistent. Incendiary. Shockingly intense.

It wasn’t enough to take her over though, not quite, and being suspended on the knife edge of release soon felt like torture.

‘Please... Touch me more.’

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