Angels Everywhere - Debbie Macomber [70]
“All right, all right,” Chet whispered, kneeling down in front of her. He pried her hands away from her face, clasped them in his own and kissed her knuckles. “You’re right, it was a stupid thing to suggest. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”
Leaning forward she rewarded his honesty with a lengthy kiss, one that gained in intensity and momentum until they were both sprawled across the top of her mattress, their arms and legs entwined.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he whispered, his voice husky and low. He was struggling for control and for that matter so was she, but it felt so wonderfully good to be in his arms. Better than anything she’d experienced in all her twenty-five years.
“I better leave,” he whispered.
“Not yet.” She ran her tongue along the underside of his jaw, loving the taste of him; the scent of rum-and-spice after-shave enveloped her. She burrowed more completely into his embrace. For a moment she thought he intended to push her away, but instead he released a long, slow sigh and held her tightly against him.
“Monica . . .”
“Hmmm?” She felt the powerful strength of his erection and heaven help her, gloried in it. By slightly lifting her leg she was able to move ever so gently against the part of him that was uniquely male.
“Stop,” he muttered between clenched teeth, “otherwise I won’t be held responsible for what happens.”
Monica smiled to herself, knowing he’d never do anything to hurt her. Where the assurance came from she couldn’t be sure, but she felt it as strongly as she did his arms around her.
“I knew it would be a mistake to come,” he mumbled, seemingly to himself.
Monica continued to move her mouth over his throat. Her tongue made small circular movements against his jaw and over his ear.
“You’re playing with fire,” he said, his voice stiff with resolve.
“I know,” she assured him.
“A man can only take so much of this.” The words were barely audible.
“I know that too.”
His hands were busy with the fastenings of her blouse, which he peeled open with ease. Monica thought to stop him before he slipped it from her arms, but he was kissing her and the feelings were too incredible to interrupt. Her bra followed next and when the cold air hit her naked breasts, she squeezed her eyes closed, suddenly afraid.
Chet altered their positions so that she was straddled atop him.
“Open your eyes,” Chet instructed after a moment.
Monica wildly shook her head. “I can’t.”
“You’re very beautiful.” The awe in his voice felt like a warm caress. The size of her breasts had been a constant source of embarrassment to Monica from the time she’d entered puberty. They were large and full. For most of her life she’d done what she could to mask them with the clothes she chose to wear.
She started when he touched her, lifting the fullness of her breasts in his palms, as though weighing them on a delicate scale. Monica bit into her lower lip and turned her head away.
The pad of his thumbs stroked her nipples, which immediately hardened and started to pulse as if they had taken on a life of their own. The ache intensified with each caress until she threw back her head and swallowed a moan.
His mouth closed over her nipple and he sucked once, hard and strong. Monica buckled at the bolt of sizzling-hot sensation. He calmed her with gentle words, caressing the length of her arms as he spoke.
Monica didn’t know what caused her to relax, or when she opened her eyes, but suddenly everything went very still. Their gazes met and Chet raised his hand and brushed a stray tendril from her face. His hand lingered there and his eyes clouded with what she suspected was regret.
“I didn’t mean for things to go so far,” he whispered. He rolled away from her and changed their positions so that they were lying on their sides, facing each other.
Monica’s head was cradled in his upper arm, their mouths separated by scant inches. Their