She slid off the stool, bringing them nearly flush up against each other.
His usual cocky facade was not on display. Instead, what she saw was raw hunger and na**d desire.
Her breath caught in her throat. “Connor…”
She placed her hands on his chest and felt the strong, rhythmic beat of his heart. He held himself very still as she went up on tiptoe, searched his face, and then, slowly, very slowly, pressed her lips to his.
His mouth opened under the pressure of her lips, his lips rubbing, stroking against hers. He took his time—as if he had all the time in the world—letting her lead, then demanding more. Yet, he held his arms at his sides, his mouth the only part building a response from her.
Yes, she thought, the man definitely knew how to kiss.
Just when she was on the point of making sounds of frustration, however, he appeased her need and wrapped his arms around her.
The kiss deepened, his tongue slipping between her lips to swirl within her mouth and duel with hers.
She moaned and her fingers threaded through his hair. She couldn’t get close enough to him—couldn’t get enough of him.
When he finally tore his mouth from hers, he said huskily, “Wrap your legs around me.” She readily complied and his hands splayed across her bottom, supporting her weight.
In this position, his erection pressed into the most intimate part of her and, instinctively, she rubbed against him.
He muttered an oath as he headed for the stairs leading to the bedrooms. “Do that again and we won’t make it to the bed.”
She laughed breathlessly. “What about the couch down here?”
He stopped for a second and gave her a smoldering look. “I want to see you lying in my bed. I want to see your thick, dark hair spread out across my pillow.” He leaned forward so his forehead rested against hers, then added, his voice deep, “I want to see you, I want to hear you and, most importantly, I want to taste you while you’re lying on my bed.”
“Is that an order?” she quipped.
He straightened and started up the stairs, hoisting her higher and giving her a wry grin. “No, but I hope I’ve answered your question. There is a couch down here, but we won’t be using it.”
“Can you hurry then?” she joked, almost hurting with the wanting. It seemed as if she’d been waiting for this moment forever and now need threatened to sweep her away.
At the end of the hallway upstairs, he kicked open the door to his bedroom and, in two strides, crossed the room to the bed, coming down half on top of her.
There was almost no thought then: need consumed them. They were like two people who had crossed the desert and finally come to a stream of water.
She was dimly aware of kicking off her sandals and of Connor helping her slide her top over her head. Then, with a flick of his fingers, he undid the front clasp of her bra.
“You’re perfect,” he groaned, his gaze hot on her br**sts, which were capped by ni**les that were tight and hard and peaked. Under his gaze, they became even more so.
“They’re just average br**sts,” she muttered, embarrassed.
“Perfect,” he repeated in a low voice. Then, with his eyes never leaving hers, he slowly lowered his head to one breast. She sighed when his mouth closed around her nipple.
Waves of sensation threatened to take her under as she watched him use his mouth on her.
When he moved his mouth to her other breast, she threaded her fingers through his hair and let her eyes close. A restless longing had taken hold of her, making her limbs quiver and suffusing her with a liquid warmth.
His mouth left her breast and seized her lips and she wound her arms around his neck, meeting his questing mouth kiss for kiss until he finally pulled back with a groan and sat up.
She opened her eyes and nearly moaned in protest until she saw the desire written on his face. Raising herself on her elbows, she watched as he quickly rid himself of his plaid shirt and then yanked his white undershirt over his head.
His chest had only a sprinkling of hair, so there was little to conceal the muscles that defined his chest and upper arms.
She’d seen him shirtless several times over the years, when he’d come to pool parties at the Whittakers’, and, memorably, when she’d spied him in the process of removing his sweat-stained shirt and putting on a fresh one during a school-break construction job in Carlyle.
She’d fantasized about touching him then. Now, she sat up to run her hands along the sculpted muscles.
“Yes, touch me,” he muttered. “Make me burn, petunia.”
She reveled in the power she had to affect him. She pressed her lips where her hands had been, placing hot, wet kisses over the planes of his chest.
He stopped her only so he could rid them both of their shoes and jeans. He peeled the denim off her in one fluid movement, taking along the underwear underneath.
His hand splayed on her hip as they fell back onto the bed again and their lips met in a deep, hungry kiss.
His hand caressed her leg, then moved to her inner thigh, making her tingle with anticipation.
She tore her mouth from his. “Ah, Connor…”
“Shh,” he said as his hand slid up to the juncture of her thighs. Holding her, his eyes steady on hers, his finger parted her and he caressed her inside.
“Oh!”
“Yes,” he said in a smoky voice. “Let me hear how it makes you feel, petunia.”
She clutched his shoulders, his look of possession the last thing she saw as her eyes closed and her world spiraled beyond everyday sensation in response to the sure and steady rhythm of his hand.
“Connor!” The cry was torn from her as she entered oblivion.
When Allison floated back down to earth, Connor was lying next to her, facing her, his arm bent and his head propped up on his hand. His other hand was drawing lazy circles on her thigh.
She looked down and he followed her gaze.
“Yup, I still want you,” he said, a hint of humor lacing his voice.
She looked back up at him. He was looking just a wee bit too pleased with himself, she decided. Giving him a coy look through her lashes, she said, “Well, thanks for everything,” and made to rise.
Laughing, he pushed her back onto the bed. “Not so fast, princess. I think we have some unfinished business.”
“Really?” She feigned innocence. “And that would be…?”
Instead of responding, he drew her to him, his mouth coming down on hers, and she was lost again in the sea of emotion and sensation between them.
He was the most magnificent man she’d ever been with. Connor’s physical size made her feel small and dainty despite her statuesque five-foot-eight frame. His scent—the warm muskiness of all-male—enveloped her.