Make Me Over_ Getting Real - Leslie Kelly [35]
Her body was lean and smooth, her skin a perfect creamy color, soft and supple. She had a tiny little birthmark on her right hip, and he ran his fingers over it, wanting to taste her there. Everywhere.
She arched up, rising toward him, knowing what was coming and wanting it.
With a helpless groan of pleasure, Drew dropped his lips over her, tasting her sweet hot flesh. Her warm scent filled his head, until he only vaguely heard her cries of pleasure. Her body rocked, finding its rhythm, which he matched with his tongue. And, unable to resist, his fingers, which he sunk inside her.
He groaned at the sensations battering him. Glorious. She was absolutely glorious. Wet, soft, welcoming around his fingers and beneath his mouth. The urge to unzip his pants and plunge into her, to lose himself in that tight warmth nearly made him lose his mind. Not to mention his control.
Thank God Tori had nearly lost hers. Her cries of pleasure pierced the haze of lust in his brain, giving him the strength to proceed with just his hand and tongue.
“Yes, Drew, yes,” she cried, her voice shaky and trembling.
“Come now, Tori,” he growled as he picked up the pace, knowing he had to take her up and over the edge soon or risk going over it with her.
And finally, perfectly, she did.
6
A FTER THEIR INTERLUDE in the greenhouse, Drew no longer trusted himself to be alone with Tori—at least, not unless they were within sight of a camera. If he allowed himself to be completely alone with her again—without a video chaperone—there would be no stopping. Not until they’d both achieved the kind of shattering climax he’d been able to give her Sunday morning. He’d completely lose the thin thread of control that’d kept him from making love to her then.
So it was time to end their reading lessons in the greenhouse.
Tori seemed to understand, without him having to say a word. Since that morning, she’d been subdued around him, quiet and watchful. As if waiting for him to decide what he wanted. That was a nobrainer. He wanted her. In any way he could have her. Preferably in every way he could have her.
Not now, asshole, he reminded himself, trying to remember exactly why his stupid intellect had been in control over his body Sunday when she’d so obviously wanted more.
Then he remembered. It was because she was changing. Growing. Emerging like a butterfly from a cocoon every single day.
The twangy southern accent was smoother now. Still detectable, but softened, until her voice sounded nearly lyrical. Her eyes still sparkled, but those raucous witticisms didn’t fall off her pretty lips as often. She wore the same casual clothes, but wore them a little better—because her chin was high and her shoulders straight. She looked more confident, that was the only way he could describe it.
Confident. Beautiful. Nearly irresistible.
He’d also been fascinated to learn Tori had an amazing memory. Now, with her newfound confidence, she’d reached the point where she debated with him about current issues during their daily classes, nailing names, dates and details with almost photographic precision. The other women in the group just watched, wide-eyed and wide-mouthed while the two of them shot different opinions back and forth.
There was no question: every day brought her closer to the new woman she was going to be. A new woman who might not even want to get involved with him. So he waited it out, missing their private time together, wondering how the hell he’d ever thought a cold shower and his own hand were going to be enough to sate the incredible want.
He was about to lose his mind from sexual tension. God, Tori merely had to walk into the room in her tight jeans that hugged her pert little ass and he reacted as predictably as Pavlov’s dog. He’d taken to keeping books, newspapers or papers in his lap whenever he knew she was