Heated Rush - Leslie Kelly [45]
His shirt came off easily between one kiss and the next.
Hers did, too, between one rough caress and the next.
He cupped her face as he pressed a hot kiss on the side of her neck. “It’s too dark in here.”
Stepping away, she reached for the desk lamp, flipping a switch. Suddenly a warm pool of yellow light banished the blackness and they took the opportunity to devour one another with their eyes.
They stood a foot apart, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke. Annie doubted, however, that the man had been struck dumb at the sight of her, as she’d been by him. Especially because he’d seen just about every single bit of it the night before at her apartment.
She hadn’t seen him, though. And he took her breath away. Because she didn’t think she’d ever beheld anything more perfectly constructed.
It was no wonder his tux had looked tailor-made, because she didn’t imagine any off-the-rack size would ever work on the man. Not with the contrast between those strong, thick-muscled shoulders, that broad chest, the slim waist and his lean hips.
A sparse whorl of dark, crisp hair highlighted the ridges of muscle beneath his skin, and emphasized the flatness of his stomach as it trailed in a thin line down into his pants. And the man didn’t have a six-pack, it had to be at least a twelve.
“What on earth are you doing with me?” she whispered.
He tsked and shook his head, his gaze locked on her body, heat and appreciation shining from his eyes. “You truly have no idea of your own appeal, do you?”
Lifting one strong hand, he touched her cheek, then stared down at her body. “You are incredibly beautiful,” he whispered. “So feminine and delicate.”
Annie didn’t usually feel feminine and delicate. She reserved those descriptions for petite females—which she wasn’t. Of average height, she had never been the type of woman men towered over. But her wrist had seemed tiny in his big hand, her waist slender when wrapped in his strong arms.
Her sex small and tight around his thick fingers.
“You are everything a woman should be,” he murmured, still staring at her.
Her white bra was lacy and pretty, but certainly didn’t produce miraculous curves she simply did not possess. Yet he looked at her as if she was woman incarnate. Like he’d die if he didn’t get to touch her, taste her.
He confirmed it by lifting her and depositing her right on top of her desk, spreading her thighs so he could step between them. She spared one moment to be grateful that she was impeccably neat and kept almost nothing on top of the big oak surface, then got right back into the moment, tugged there by the need in his voice.
“I could spend hours telling you how attracted I am to you, how much I want you,” he admitted as he kissed his way down her neck, “but I’d rather just have you instead.”
Annie could only moan when he reached around to unfasten her bra, tugging it off her. The dark appreciation in his eyes spoke volumes, told her all the things he hadn’t said.
Yes, his way of communicating was very effective. Because judging by that heat, by his ragged breathing, the flexing of muscle in his chest and arms, and that immense ridge in his trousers, he wanted her desperately.
He wasn’t as wild and unrestrained as he’d been in the other room…but Annie couldn’t even think to complain. Not when his mouth felt so good, his lips and tongue tasting a trail across the curve of one breast, then over to the other.
“Please,” she whimpered as he continued to avoid her sensitized nipples. They were hard and tilted up toward his mouth in blatant invitation. Yet he didn’t give her what she needed, only letting his warm breaths occasionally graze across them.
Annie tightened her legs around his, tugging him closer and sliding against him, up and down, tormenting both of them through their clothes.
“Annie…” he growled.
“Give me what I want and I’ll show mercy,” she said, dropping