She had to touch him. Her hands lifted to his face, her thumbs moving over his lips as her fingers framed his cheeks. The feel of the rough, day-old growth of beard that had reappeared since he had shaved early that morning prickled her palms. His lips moved against her thumbs, kissing them, his tongue stroking over them.
“I’m here,” she whispered.
“Always be here, Emily.”
“For as long as you’ll let me.”
She would be with him forever, if he stayed. If he loved. As she loved.
She loved him. She had known it was coming. She had felt it building, but had tried to convince herself she could hold back.
There was no holding it back. It already had her by the heart and was moving slowly, irrevocably, into her soul.
The pain eased slowly from his eyes to be replaced by a fierce, untamed emotion. Untamed and unquenchable. She could see it, clear to his soul, as her breath caught.
“You’re mine,” he told her then, his voice strong, rough. “Mine, Emily.”
His hips moved between her thighs, the heavy length of his erection pressing against the thin panel of lace that covered her pussy.
“Yours,” she gasped. She had no argument with that. She would always belong to him. She would always need him, ache for him.
She had dreamed of him for years. A bad boy. Mocking. Rough. Strong and determined. Kell was that and more.
A thin, low cry came from her lips as his head descended once again, his lips covering a sensitive nipple and drawing it into his mouth as his hand moved to the elastic band of her panties.
As she arched, pushing her nipple deeper into the heated grip his lips had on it, she felt the band tear. The lace disintegrated beneath the tug he gave it. The other side was treated to the same determined effort, leaving her panties in shreds around her, but the heated length of his cock now slid against the slick folds of her pussy.
“Kell. Oh God. I don’t know if I can stand it.” The act of having her clothes torn from her body was nearly more than she could bear.
She was ready to come now. Just as she had been the day he had ripped the seam of the Capris to bury his lips between her thighs.
He was wicked and unpredictable. Sensual and sexual. He was heating her to the point that she could feel the flames whipping through her body and searing her nerve endings.
“Ahh, that’s more like it,” he drawled, his hips shifting, dragging his erection over the folds it was pressed against.
Emily moaned at the feeling of the hard, throbbing flesh against her clit, caressing it, stroking across it.
“God! The feel of you.” His head lifted from her breast, his eyes darkening as he shifted, drawing back to sit on his knees and stare down at her with raging need.
The need raged inside Emily as well. She had no idea how to control it, how to do anything but reach for him.
Her hands slid from his chest to his hard abs, her nails scraping against his flesh as she watched the muscles beneath it flex and ripple.
Lower, his cock pressed between her thighs, rising above her mound, the hard flesh glistening with her juices as a creamy bead of precum welled at the tip of the wide crest.
“Why are you waiting?” she asked breathlessly.
He was breathing harshly, his hands gripping her thighs, his fingers clenching and unclenching restlessly in her flesh.
“Condom.” The word was pushed between clenched teeth. “I didn’t bring a condom in with me.”
“At all?” Her lips parted in distress.
“In my room.” He breathed in slowly, carefully. “I left them in my bag. In my room. Your butler put my bag in my room.”
Condoms. God, she hated the thought of a condom, the thought of anything between his flesh and hers. But the thought of the consequences had her moving, searching.
She ignored his frustrated growl as she moved back, forcing his flesh from hers as she turned to her side and reached for the drawer at her bedside table.