Thirteen
No memories came crashing back to her. There was only the present, only the way Chase’s fingers felt cradling the back of her head. Only the way his rough jaw scraped her sensitive skin as he angled his mouth and kissed her deeply.
His tongue tasted of coffee and something else—something basal and carnal and undefinable. It was him. And every womanly part of her reacted without her brain’s permission.
His fingers left her head and rested on her nape, his thumb stroking her jawline as his tongue plundered her mouth. High, desperate sounds of longing infiltrated the space between them and at first she didn’t recognize her own voice.
It’d been a while since someone had kissed her with such...ownership. No, not ownership. Familiarity.
He knew her body. He wasn’t lying about that. She’d thought ten years had dampened memories of what it was like to be held by him, but now that she was in his arms it was like no time had passed.
He moved his wide palms until they wrapped around her ribs. Heating the material of her shirt and then burning right through it.
“Chase.”
He didn’t respond, kissing her as he slid his hands south, fumbling with the edge of her sweatshirt and the T-shirt under it.
“Chase.”
“Hush,” he said at the same time he found her bare skin. She caught his face between her hands and met his eyes. Smoky green eyes filled to the brim with heat. Lust for her. This gorgeous man wanted her. She was insane for pretending she didn’t want him right back.
“Do you—”
“Don’t talk. No talking.” He didn’t give her a chance to, either. He lifted her sweatshirt and stripped it over her head, mildly perplexed to find another shirt in its place. When he reached for her T-shirt, she grabbed the edge and held it down.
“I don’t remember you hurrying before.”
“There are too many things I want to do to you and not enough snow falling to guarantee you will stay long enough for me to do them.” He canted one eyebrow and regarded her with seriousness.
She decided to shut up and kiss him instead of having this conversation. It was best they didn’t think too much about what they were doing. It’d been a long time since she’d been caught up in the rush of physical attraction. It was futile to resist him. She’d sought him out this morning and it had little to do with helping him shovel snow. She didn’t like him being far away—she liked him close. Really close.
Skin to skin.
He molded his hands around her breasts, still encased in her bra and let out a low growl of approval. “Missed these.”
It wasn’t a missed you but close enough. She reached behind her back to unhook her bra strap. When the cups sagged, his eyes grew dark and hungry. She was in awe now like she’d been the first time she’d been naked in front of him. Amazed that this stunning specimen was so eager to make her his.
“Take it off.”
She obeyed his command, letting the straps fall and reveal her breasts. He wasted no time leaning forward to capture one nipple on his tongue, his thumb sweeping over the other as he pressed his weight against her. Sensitive nerve endings shot pleasure down her arms and southerly. She fell back onto the blanket, his lips and tongue working their magic.
“You planned this,” she panted, her hands raking into his hair. “That’s why you gave me the blanket.”
“Couches are for making out,” he let her nipple go to say. “You and I have more room down here and we’re doing more than making out.”
She clucked her tongue at his assumption, but then he lowered his head again and she forgot about taking him to task. Her hands buried in his thick, dark hair, she savored the tug of his lips as sparks danced between her legs.
He swept his mouth to the other breast at the same time his hands fisted the waistband of her yoga pants and tugged.
“Chase.” Her moan was a frail breath, mingling with the sound of the crackling fire and her lost intentions.
He wrestled the stretchy material from her legs, socks with them, and then he began to strip himself.
Shoes went first, then his shirt. Then he shucked his pants and tore off his socks. She sat up on her elbows to watch the show. His quick, efficient movements revealing every inch of the man she was literally aching to look at.
He’d been leaner back then. He was still lean, but the muscles cording his arms and neck were heavier than she remembered. His chest was rounded—and her mouth went dry as she studied the hair swirling over his skin and marching a path down, down...
He climbed to his knees and her eyes went straight for the promise of what was to come. His cock hung heavy, erect, and she swallowed. That hadn’t changed a bit—that part of him had always been impressive. Able to render her a boneless mass in record time while she called his name on a loud, sated shout.