Make Me Over_ Getting Real - Leslie Kelly [34]
She might be physically ready now. Oh, God, yeah, she was physically ready. His whole body nearly shook remembering how hot and damp and needy she’d been.
But in every other way, she was far from it.
He couldn’t become her lover until she recognized and dealt with the changes in her life. Tori hadn’t yet grasped what was happening here. She hadn’t realized she was doing a hell of a lot more than competing for some new clothes and jewelry. She was striding forward into a new future.
Soon, as she continued to gobble up every bit of knowledge she could, as her hungry, bright mind strove further and further toward new experiences, she’d reach a point of no return—when she came to understand she couldn’t return to her old world. Not entirely. Nor would she want to go back to it.
Who knew what new world she’d want. Hell, for all he knew, it could be one in Hollywood, with oily plastic surgeons.
So no, better to keep at least some kind of distance between them. At least for now, until she figured out for sure that she wanted a lover, not just a hot sexual encounter. And that she wanted a real future, not a step back into her small-town world where she couldn’t even read a book in peace.
When she reached that moment, he planned to be by her side to help her deal with it. And then to act on the hot desire he’d felt for her from day one. When she was ready—really ready—he was going to make love to her until they’d both die from pleasure.
But now? No. He couldn’t take her now, couldn’t bury himself inside her and lose his mind, not when Tori had no idea who she’d be—or what she’d want—next week.
He could, however, give her some relief, temporary though it might be.
“Drew?” she asked, confusion in her voice.
“Shh,” he said, staring at her, drawing in a few deep breaths to be sure he had control of himself. He couldn’t touch her until he did. So instead, he simply waited. And stared.
She was glorious. Her body damp and misty from the humid air and the passionate heat they’d made each other feel. Sitting just a few inches away in jeans and nothing else, she looked almost pagan, with her long, curly hair curtaining one breast. The other was completely bare, and his mouth went dry, remembering how she’d tasted, the little coos she’d made when he’d sucked her pretty, taut nipple.
Finally, reminding himself that a cold shower and his own hand would do him okay later on, he moved close to her again. “I’m not going to have sex with you right now.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he put his hand up, palm out, stopping her. With a wicked grin, he promised, “But I can give you lots of nice things to think about…until we do.”
Her eyes flared a bit and her pink tongue slipped out to moisten her lips. Drew needed no further invitation. He dropped his mouth to hers, open and hungry, licking her, nearly devouring her.
“Lie back,” he ordered.
She instantly complied.
Drew kissed her again, making love to her mouth with deep, steady thrusts of his tongue, while his hand roamed over her. Cupping one breast, he caught her nipple between his fingertips and teased it until she began to whimper.
“Please…”
She didn’t have to ask twice. Kissing his way down her body, he covered her breast with his mouth, then sucked deep. At the same moment, he dropped one hand between her legs and cupped her through her jeans, the pressure of his palm hitting her at just the right angle.
She bucked up against him, crying out again. “Touch me, touch me,” she began to murmur. “Closer, please.”
Though he’d hoped to keep the physical barrier of clothing between them, his own pants would have to do. Because he could no more deny her than he could stop drawing short choppy breaths into his lungs. She took the matter out of his hands, literally, by reaching down to unfasten her own jeans and push them down over her hips.
Drew tasted his way down her body, with kisses and light nips of his teeth, until he reached the top of her tiny panties.
“Up,” he murmured as he slid his hands