Deliberately, he bent his head and kissed her hand again. Softly, but slowly. Stella made a small sound.
Just as deliberately, she disentangled their fingers, and when her hand was free, brushed her thumb over his lower lip.
He inhaled audibly. Stella could see the tension in his body, tight like a wire, all of it focused on her.
Ours, her lynx growled. He's ours. See how he looks at us? See how he wants us?
And finally, Stella had to acknowledge that her lynx was right.
So she leaned forward, her eyes fixed on Nate's. Right before their lips touched, her eyes drifted closed, and when their mouths brushed together, she sighed with desire.
There was a shining, perfect moment when they were both just hovering together, barely touching, feeling each other's body heat. Aware of the potential that hung in the air.
Then Nate caught her in his arms and kissed her hard.
Stella shuddered. His hands were tight on her waist, his mouth hot and demanding. Like he'd been holding himself back so carefully, and now that he'd let go, he couldn't contain himself.
She kissed him back. All hesitance had disappeared as desire came roaring through her body, her lynx wild in her chest, the same thought thudding through them both: Mine, mine, mine.
Forget any belief that she couldn't have him. Any thoughts that he was too good for her, that he had a life far away. Screw that. Stella dug her fingers in, held on, and let any thoughts of the future go. For now, for right now—this man was hers.
They kissed until her breath came short and her fingers were tingling. His tongue slid into her mouth, and she opened for it with a moan. She pushed forward, insistent, until he spread his big hands over her hips and lifted her right into his lap.
And then, oh, she could feel him hardening underneath her. Right between her legs, where she wanted him the most. She kissed him fiercely, biting at his lip while her clit throbbed.
He tore his mouth away and panted for breath, his eyes devouring her. “God,” he said. His voice sounded wrecked already. “God, you’re gorgeous. The things I want to do to you—”
“Do them.” Stella kissed his mouth again. “Do all of them.”
He growled and pulled her close again, fingers biting down. There was something about seeing Nate like this—Nate, who was easygoing and always in control, who was safe and kind and conscientious. Seeing him wild-eyed with desire, overwhelmed with need, for her—
It inflamed her, made her wild in turn. She rocked on his lap, chasing the thrill of sensation that arced through her when her clit rubbed against his erection just right. He groaned and thrust up. She could feel his cock jerk through the thin flannel of his pants.
“Clothes off,” he said into her mouth. “Off now.”
He stripped her tank top up over her head; she had to let go of him to raise her arms and get it off, and she hated every second she wasn’t holding on to him. But then he wanted to lean back and look at her.
She caught her breath, seeing his eyes glaze over as her chest heaved. “You too,” she insisted, pulling at his T-shirt.
He sat forward so she could yank it up and off of him, and then she was caught by
the sight of his chest, leanly muscled, with salt-and-pepper chest hair. She spread her palms over his pecs, catching a nipple between two fingers. He made a low noise, and then he was cupping her breasts in his big, rough hands. She closed her eyes.
And then one of his hands trailed down, fingers tracing delicately over her stomach. Stella smiled without opening her eyes, and waited.
The fingers dipped down under the waistband of her pajama pants. The elastic gave him plenty of room, and soon his whole hand was down there. Stella leaned back to give him room—his other hand caught her around the waist, letting her arch her back and lift her hips without being in any danger of falling.
He cupped her mound, massaging lightly through her panties. Stella panted hotly, pushing her hips up into his hand. She was slick with wetness, the fabric of her underwear soaking through as he rubbed her clit through it. “Come on,” she whispered, “come on, come on.”
He groaned and pulled his hand back—Stella gasped in protest at the loss of sensation—and then slid it under the waistband of her panties. And then his fingers were pressing right up against her clit, thank God, right where she needed them. His touch was firm but unpredictable; first here, then there, then somewhere else. Stella wiggled against him, looking for more.
He gave it to her. Sliding his hand down the length of her clit—she let out a moan, then clapped a hand over her mouth, remembering that they weren't alone in the house—he slid one of those long, capable fingers right inside her, while his thumb rubbed circles over the base of her clit. Stella's muscles clenched hard around him, her head thrown back, all of her weight on his other hand, pressed against her lower back. She dragged in air, her mouth open, moving her hips in circles against his hand.
She could feel the orgasm building inside her. “Don't stop, don't stop—”
“I won't stop,” he said, no hesitation. He kept the pressure up, the circling of his thumb, the slow thrust of his finger in and out. At the last moment, Stella opened her eyes.
He was watching her like she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Their eyes locked, and Stella shuddered and came.