I remove my finger and replace it with my mouth.
He nips at my bottom lip, and I moan into his mouth.
I need to get closer.
Kicking both blankets to the ground, I shift on the bench seat, twisting to slide onto his lap, my knees straddling his hips.
His hands slip to my sides, his big, warm fingers gripping my waist. His mouth is insistent, his tongue sliding against mine, probing and seeking.
I want more. I need more. More of his skin, more of his touch on me.
I reach for one of his hands and guide it up, covering my breast. He pulls back slightly. His pupils are dilated, his breathing quick and labored.
“Wait.” He draws air in deeper and releases it. His hand clenches on my waist, pulling me closer even as he’s shaking his head. “Jesus. Finley. I don’t want to take advantage of you.” His eyes search mine, filled with desire, but doubts lurk in the recesses of his gaze.
I swivel my hips against the unmistakable erection pressing up in his jeans. “You can’t if I want it. Please. Exploit me.”
ChapterFour
Archer
Ishould have said no.
No to everything, starting with the drinks. It should have been easy. “No, thanks, and good night.” Five words.
But I couldn’t. Finley was staring at me with those big, luminous eyes, honest and nervous but doing it anyway. I liked her courage in asking for what she wanted without shame or preamble.
Sayingnowas an impossibility, and not just because it’s been almost a year since I’ve been with a woman.
It’s her. There’s something about Finley that’s alluring, an innate honesty and sense of humor that I’m not sure I’ve ever encountered before. All I know is that I’ve never been so drawn, so attracted to a woman so quickly in my life.
And now . . . she leans back in my lap far enough to reach up and slip one button out of its mooring. Then another. And another. The beat of my heart increases in tempo with each detachment. Little white daisies pepper the dark top. I might get an erection every time I come across one of those little flowers for the rest of my life.
I stare, transfixed at the sight of her bare skin appearing one slow fastening at a time.
My mouth goes dry when she reaches the middle of her chest then moves down more.
She’s not wearing a bra.
My heart stops in my chest and then resumes beating as she continues her slow progress. One. Two. Three.
My hands move without conscious thought, pushing the thin fabric back, over and down her shoulders.
She’s completely bared to my probing gaze, nothing in the way, nothing to hide the most perfect, most exquisite breasts I’ve ever seen in my life.
“You should never wear clothes,” I whisper.
She laughs, a sultry sound that I barely register over the roaring in my ears.
Every noble thought that was flashing through my head a second ago—how this is a bad idea, how I need to tell her why I’m really here before I let this go on any longer—all of it goes flying out into the cold night as the blood in my body rushes southward.
The world recedes. All that exists is this flawless woman in my arms and a roaring in my ears.
“Archer. Touch me.” The words are whispered, simple, and yet so erotic that just the sight of her and those three words have the potency to push me right over the edge.
The strength of my physical reaction should be alarming, but I’m too turned on to care.
Her hips flex against mine, seeking the hard ridge of my arousal, her head tilting back.