As if he’d actually touched her, her breasts grew heavy, and beneath the thin cotton of her top and the thin nylon of her bra, her nipples tightened into hard, sensitive points.
“Do you want to hear how good?”
With her breath stuck in the back of her throat, she nodded.
Through the window glass, he watched her as he lowered his face and lightly ran the tip of his tongue down the shell of her ear. “You liked it when I did this,” he whispered, then gently sucked her lobe. His breath warmed her cheek and a shiver tickled her spine. With his free hand, Dylan pushed her hair aside and slid his mouth to the side of her throat. “And this.” He placed warm kisses on her neck, and she watched his face settle into the crook of her neck, felt him gently suck her flesh into his hot mouth, but before he left a mark, he moved on, and slowly he slipped the straps of her tank top and bra from her shoulder and down her arm.
“You’re so soft,” he said and pulled her even tighter against his chest. “Even softer than you look.” His hand on her stomach curled, bunching her shirt in his fist. The hard length of his erection pressed into her behind and she went all liquid inside. Lust pooled hot and wet and wanting between her legs. The thought of them naked, making love, almost had her turning around and hooking her legs around his waist. For a moment she allowed herself a fantasy of her own, one in which she stripped off his clothes and ran her hands all over him, but with what remained of the little sanity she still possessed, she reminded herself that she hadn’t known him long enough to actually get naked.
“I don’t think sex is a good idea,” she said just above a whisper.
His gaze lifted to hers in the window. “Who said anything about sex?” he asked and kissed a warm trail to the end of her shoulder. “We’re just messin‘ around a little bit.”
“In front of the window?”
“Honey, there’s no one out there for miles.” He tugged the bottom of her tank top out of her skirt and got back to business. “If I make love to you, it won’t be with two little boys right downstairs. I’ll come prepared, and I’ll make sure I have all night to touch you the way I want.”
She’d completely forgotten about the two boys asleep downstairs. “Maybe we should stop.”
He slipped his hand under her shirt and his hot palm caressed her bare skin. “Do you want me to stop?”
She looked up at him and her forehead brushed his rough chin. “No.”
“Then keep your ears open for little feet coming up the stairs.” With his mouth poised above hers, he asked, “How do you feel?”
“Fine,” she responded without thinking about her answer first. She shook her head when she realized that probably wasn’t what he was asking. She raised her hand to cup his rough cheek. “I feel like I should probably ask you to leave.” She kissed the corner of his mouth and bristly jaw. “But I don’t really want you to go. I want you to stay, but I know you shouldn’t.” She buried her face in his neck and breathed in the scent of his skin. “Mostly you make me feel confused and lonely.”
His fingers fanned her bare stomach, his thumb brushed the bottom swell of her breast, and she had to remind herself to breathe. “With my hand up your shirt, how could I make you feel lonely?”
“Because you remind of things I didn’t even know I missed until I drove into this town.” She kissed his throat, then added, “Like the sound of a man’s boots on my floor and the feeling of a rough, scratchy cheek beneath my palm. The warm, solid pleasure of your chest against my back. Feeling safe.” And sex. He made her realize how much she missed being sexually intimate with a man, being desired and consumed and tangled up in sweaty sheets and raw lust. “And sometimes when I look into your eyes, I think that maybe you’re lonely, too.”
He was silent for a moment, watching her. Then he asked, “Do you know what I see when I look at you?”
Beneath her lips, his pulse pounded and she shook her head.
“I see someone who reminds me exactly how long it’s been since I’ve touched and smelled a woman’s sweet skin.” Again he pressed his erection into her behind, and she felt the heat of him through the worn denim. It spread down the backs of her legs and curled her bare toes against the cool hardwood floor. “When I look at you, I forget exactly why I’m living like a priest.”
She looked up into his face and her skepticism must have shown.
He pulled back. “You don’t think I’m living like a priest?”
“I’ve seen the way some of the women in this town treat you.”
“Yeah, but I don’t have problems with control around them. They don’t tempt me. Not like you do.” With her head tilted up, her neck arched, Dylan softly kissed her lips. “They don’t tempt me into fantasies about hot, down and dirty, no-holds-barred sex. They don’t make me ache to touch their soft skin like I want to touch yours. All over, with my hands and mouth. Hope, I want to kiss your breasts and little belly button and between your thighs. I know I should stay away. Being around you makes it worse, but I can’t make myself stay away. I have no control over wanting you.”
She knew the feeling. He gently pressed his mouth to hers and settled into a kiss so slow and sweet, and in such opposition to the blood she felt speeding through his veins, that she slid her hand from his cheek to the back of his head and forced deeper contact. For a man who said he had no control, he seemed to be doing just fine. She licked the tip of his slick tongue, and the kiss eased into a gentle mating of their mouths, a deep intimacy that teased much more than it satisfied. A maddening chase and follow. A slick advance and retreat of hot tongues and mouths.
Then, as if she’d suddenly lit a fire within him, the kiss turned greedy and he devoured her, sucking the breath from her lungs. In an instant, she was consumed, and she thought she rather liked the feeling of giving up control over something she co
uldn’t control anyway.
Beneath her shirt, his hand moved upward to gently cup her breast, and everything got so hot and dizzy she gave up thinking about anything except his palm and his thumb brushing her nipple through the sheer nylon of her bra.
Dylan groaned deep in his chest and pulled his mouth from hers. His lust-filled eyes searched hers, and as Hope watched his profile, he slowly lifted her shirt up over her breasts, then completely stilled. She held her breath, watching him and waiting for his reaction.
“Look at you,” he said and turned her attention to the refection in the window, of Dylan standing behind her, his big hands bunching the bottom of her tank top. His gaze pinned to her white bra, the material so sheer she might as well have been naked. Her breasts and her tight, puckered nipples straining against the thin nylon.
“You’re beautiful,” he breathed and met her gaze in the glass.