“Do you think so?”
A frown settled between his brows and he slowly shook his head. “No, I’m totally full of shit,” he said as he pulled his hands from his pockets and cupped her cheeks in his warm palms. His thumb brushed her chilled skin and he lowered his forehead to rest against hers. “I’m a fairly selfish guy and I want you,” he said, his voice lowered. “I want to kiss you and touch you and”-he paused and she saw the smile in his eyes- “jump your gorgeous bones. Even though I’m thirty-five, I find it impossible to control myself with you. Wanting you has taken over, and I think about making love to you all the time. Did you know that?”
He surrounded her, took all of her air, and sucked out her depleted resistance. Unable to speak, she shook her head.
“I had a real smutty dream about you last night. It was wild. I did things to you that we won’t even talk about, because if I told you, it would get me in trouble.”
He dreamed about me? She tried to think of something clever and provocative but couldn’t. Her remaining capacity for rational thought deserted her about the time he mentioned jumping her gorgeous bones. She’d always thought her bones were clumsy and unattractive.
“So I’m counting on you to be sensible. I’m counting on you to tell me no.” He brushed his mouth against hers and said, “Tell me no and I’ll leave you alone.”
He was too close, and too handsome, and she wanted him too much to be sensible. She wanted to crawl inside his skin, and she didn’t even consider saying no. Her hands released the blanket and it fell from her shoulders to pool at her feet. She grasped the open lapels of his jacket and held on. The tip of her tongue lightly touched the seam of his lips and he opened his mouth to her. The kiss they’d shared earlier had started out slow but had reached the flash point within seconds. This kiss lingered on their lips. Their mouths opened and their tongues lightly touched. They had all night and neither was in a hurry.
Years ago, she’d known how to please a man. The skills she’d perfected to an art form lay buried somewhere deep within her. She didn’t know if she still knew how to tease, how to drive a man crazy. She moved her hands to the waistband of his pants and slowly slid her palms beneath his jacket and up his warm abdomen to his chest. Beneath her touch, his hard muscles tightened, and his mouth pressed deeper into hers, creating a soft suction. Her tongue teased him, and she felt the heavy beating of his heart. He moved one of his hands to her hips and pulled her closer against him.
Against her lower stomach, she felt him swell. He was long and hard. Passion and feminine satisfaction mingled and shot threw her, settling in the apex of her thighs. She lightly brushed against him and her passion twisted into a hot coil. His grasp on her hip tightened, then he pulled away from her lips.
“You were good seven years ago,” he said as the night breeze stirred the short hair on the side of his head. “I have a feeling you’ve gotten better.”
Georgeanne could have told him that it wasn’t because of practice. In fact, she was so out of practice that she didn’t have a proper sultry response. Without the distraction of his sensual mouth, and the sound of his shameless words filling her head, she felt the crisp wind slicing through her sweater and she shivered.
“Let’s go,” he said, and reached for her hand. He pulled her against his side, and together they walked into the house, shutting the door behind them. John kissed her softly on the lips, then he shrugged out of his jacket. “Are you still cold?” he asked as he threw the jacket on the couch.
The hairs on Georgeanne’s arms tingled, but not from the cold. “I’m okay,” she said as she rubbed her arms through her sweater.
“How about a fire anyway?”
She didn’t want to wait that long to feel his lips against hers, but she didn’t want to appear love-starved either. “If it’s not too much trouble.”
He gave her a lazy grin. “Oh, I think I can manage,” he said, walked over to the blue and white tile mantel, and flipped a switch. Orange flame shot from the gas jets and lapped at the fake logs.
Georgeanne’s smile matched his. “I think that’s cheating.”
“Only if I’d been a Boy Scout, and I wasn’t.”
“I should have guessed.” She turned to look out the wall of windows but couldn’t see past her own reflection. She felt a moment of panic as she hurriedly tried to remember if she wore satin underwear or if she’d changed into ordinary white cotton.
“What?” he asked as he came to stand behind her. “That I wasn’t a Boy Scout?” He reached for her and pulled her back against his chest. “Or that I have a fake fire?”
Georgeanne looked at his wavy reflection. She stared into his gorgeous face, and she no longer cared if her panties were Hanes or Victoria’s Secret. She arched her back a little and pressed her bottom into his groin. “Is your fire fake, John?”
He sucked in his breath and his chuckle was a little strained when he said, “If you’re a good girl, I’ll show it to you later.” He kissed the crown of her head, then grasped the bottom of her sweater. “But for now, you show me.” He pulled the sweater over her head and tossed it aside. Her first instinct was to raise her hands to shield her breasts from his view. Instead, she kept them at her sides and stood before him in her denim skirt and her blue stretch satin bra. His fingers skimmed across her stomach, then he cupped both heavy breasts in his strong hands.
“You’re beautiful,” he said as his thumbs brushed across the satin covering her nipples. “So beautiful I can hardly breathe.”
Georgeanne knew the feeling. She felt as if the breath were pulled from her lungs as she watched his hands lift her breasts. She was unable to look away as he unhooked her bra and slowly pushed the straps from her shoulders. The blue satin slid down the slopes of her breasts, shimmered across her nipples, then fell down her arms to the floor. Suddenly embarrassed, Georgeanne tried to turn to face him, to press herself into his chest and shield herself from his hot gaze. But he moved his hands to her waist and held her‘ where she was.
“Someone might see us,” she said.
“No one is out there.” He lightly brushed the tips of his fingers across the tips of her breasts.
Her breathing became shallow. “There might be.”
“We’re not beach level. We’re up too high.” She watched as he softly pinched her puckered nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, and suddenly she didn’t care anymore. A busload of Shriners could have paraded across the deck, and she wouldn’t have cared. She arched her back and raised her arms. Her hands cupped the back of his head and she brought his lips down to hers. She thrust her tongue into his mouth and gave him a hot, greedy kiss. He groaned deep within his chest as he played with her breasts. He lifted and squeezed, then moved his hands to the button at her waist. Her skirt and blue satiny underwear were pushed down her hips and thighs and fell to her feet. She stepped out of them and kicked them aside, then she was naked, her bare bottom pressed against the zipper of his jeans. He was completely dressed while she was completely naked, and the feel of worn denim against her skin was extremely erotic. He tilted his hips and pressed his erection into her behind as his mouth trailed hot little kisses down the side of her throat. He lightly bit her shoulder, then sucked her skin into his mouth.
Georgeanne turned her gaze to the window, and through the blurred glass she watched his big hands slip across her body. He caressed her breasts, her stomach, and her hips. He placed one of his feet between hers and pushed them farther apart. Then he slid his hand to her parted thighs, and he fondled her gently. She was slick where his fingers stroked, and a sharp ache radiated from his touch. Her insides melted, pooling deep and low in her pelvis. His hands, his mouth, his hot gaze. She looked into the reflection of her own face and did not recognize the woman staring back at her. The woman in the window looked drugged. She heard herself moan, and she feared that if she didn’t stop him, she’d reach her peak alone. She didn’t want that. She wanted him with her.
She let herself savor the pleasure of his hands for a few more wonderful seconds, then she turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed him hungrily as she slid her bare knee up the outside of his thigh. His fingers traced a sensual path down her spine, then he grabbed her behind and lifted her onto her toes, grinding his pelvis into hers. She moved her mouth to the side of his throat and tasted his skin. He groaned and she slid back down his body to stand in front of him. Her hands drifted down his stomach to the end of his T-shirt, and she pulled the stretchy cotton from the waistband of his pants.