A Groom For The Taking: The Wedding Date. Элли Блейк
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away.
‘I propose we don’t waste another minute. But here’s the clincher. Come Tuesday … whatever happens in Tasmania stays in Tasmania.’
Her hands curled over the tiled edge of the spa pool until the knuckles turned white. His did the same. He moved his finger half an inch and it connected with hers. Her head dropped back and a tremble shook through her.
And in the end that was all it took. An arrangement they could both live with and the touch of a finger.
With a moan that was half-anguish and half-relief Hannah straddled him in one deft move. Her hands were deep in his hair, her mouth on his, and she was kissing him as though her life depended on it.
That mouth. It was nothing short of divine. Bradley wrapped his arms about her oh-so-slight form, closed his eyes, and let that gorgeous mouth take him to heaven and back. Deal or no deal, that mouth was as close to heaven as he was ever likely to get.
Eons later the kisses slowed. Softened. Sweetened. His hormones continued to rage through him, looking for release. Gentle discovery was such gorgeous agony.
Hands on his shoulders, she kissed his temple. His cheek. The very corner of his mouth. He turned to take sanctuary there again, but she moved on to nibble at his earlobe.
‘Devil,’ he groaned.
Her laughter whispered across his ear, soft and sexy. Just like her.
He slid his hands straight to her backside and pulled her close, dragging the curve between her thighs across the hard peak of his denimclad erection. She gasped and clung to him, her teasing laughter nothing but a memory.
He registered a pair of underpants before his hands slipped beneath her top. His thumbs ran over her hipbones, his fingers delving into the soft, feminine flesh at her waist. His exploration continued and he found nothing but skin. Scorching hot, velvet-soft naked skin.
When his thumbs brushed the underside of her bare breasts she bucked in pleasure. His stomach clenched tight to keep himself upright. To keep him from knocking himself out on the tiles or falling into the spa.
Though the thought of Hannah slippery and wet was almost enough to blow his mind, the thought of being stuck in wet jeans and unable to shuck his way out of the blasted things kept him rooted to the spot.
He cupped her breast to find a perfect handful. Beautiful. Every inch of her was staggeringly beautiful. The way she reacted at his slightest touch overwhelmed him again and again. He knew he had skills. But Hannah made him feel like a Grand Master. It only made him want to prove her right. To prove to them both their pact would be worth it.
But before he even had the chance she’d whipped her top over her head. Then, with a twinkle in her eye, she was gone. The warm body writhing so deliciously in his arms was now nothing but a cool empty space.
It took him a moment to realise Hannah had slipped into the spa. Then she reappeared, water streaming over her face, glistening from her long dark hair. Hot, wet, slippery. And then a tiny pair of black underpants appeared on a twirling finger before she flipped them onto the tiles.
Bradley was on his feet, stripping down before he even realised what was happening. Jacket. Top. Singlet. Jeans.
Dammit. Button fly!
His fingers felt fat and numb as he struggled with what felt like a thousand buttons.
He slipped into the water, searching for her. The damn pool wasn’t any more than two metres by two metres, but the floor was a mottled midnight-blue, and lit only by the filmiest of winter moonlight.
Then he felt the slightest pressure on his inner thigh. His hipbone. His belly button. It was her lips as she kissed her way up his body.
She emerged from the water like some kind of siren. Dark slick hair, skin like cream, mouth creating the most delicious havoc with his senses.
He leaned his elbows on the tiles, relishing the cold hardness, hoping it might keep him from teetering over the edge into oblivion. It did. Barely.
She slid a slow hand up his chest. Her tongue followed, creating a burning hot path across his ribs, around his left nipple. Her soft naked flesh slid sensually against his.
And then, as her teeth sank hard into the sensitive tendon across the top of his shoulder, her other hand wrapped around his erection. One finger at a time. Till she had him in her complete thrall.
The primal growl building up inside him finally found release. It echoed against the black windows. It reverberated across the top of the water. And Hannah’s grip, both up top and below, faltered.
At the first sign of a pause in her utterly sensual seduction of him he wrested back control.
He lifted her out of the pool, spun her about, and sat her unceremoniously on the tiles.
She squeaked in shock, her limbs flailing as she tried to get purchase on the slippery floor. She sat before him completely naked, nowhere to hide.
She looked down at him. Wide pale eyes rimmed by smudged eyeliner. Pink-peaked breasts turning to dark nubs in the cooler air.
Vulnerable. Completely at his mercy. He realised with a jolt what kind of responsibility that engendered. Just what kind of line he was treading.
Then her naked foot slid up his side. He jerked beneath the heated caress. Shuddered. Then focussed. She was a grown woman. A woman who knew the boundaries. A woman who wanted this as much as he did.
Bradley placed his hands on her knees. She flinched. Good, he thought. He wanted her completely aware of what was about to happen to her.
She never looked away. When he began to press them apart slowly, oh-so-achingly slowly, she let him.
Her eyes grew dark—so unexpectedly dark, so beautifully dark. Her lips parted. Her skin grew pink. All over. How had he never noticed the sensuality that oozed from her pores?
Fine. He’d noticed. He’d just worked the both of them to the point of exhaustion every time his body reacted to her, in an effort to keep his life uncomplicated.
Fool.
He yanked her closer, her backside sliding along the tiles till her legs dangled in the water. A surprised sigh rushed from her lungs. Then he lifted her legs slowly, one by one, and draped them over his shoulders. Her heels bounced against his back, creating hot swirls of need that coiled tightly in his gut. And while a thousand conflicting emotions flittered across her face she gave in to him without a murmur. Loose as a rag doll, she slowly lay back on the tiles, her head coming to rest on his rolled-up jacket.
Trusting him completely.
Again realisation jarred him. How could she? Why would she? He’d never done anything to engender such faith from her. He was pretty hard guy most of the time, and she didn’t seem to care. She needed to toughen up. Big-time. And fast.
He’d tell her so. Later. Much later. For right then all his brain function went into demanding that his hand run down her front, graze her breasts, take its time over the sexy little rise at her belly. Her torso lifted and curled to follow the trail of his touch, as if not being touched by him was simply too much to bear.
Desire the likes of which he’d never felt roared unimpeded through him, lit by a need to please her. To show her that her trust wasn’t unfounded. And to drive every thought she’d ever had completely out of her mind.
Then he lowered his mouth to her inner thigh, the scent of her making his nostrils flare in anticipation. Her hands slammed out sideways, grabbing onto his shirt, his jeans, whatever purchase she could find.
He ran his tongue along the muscle quivering in her thigh. God, she was temptation incarnate. So responsive, so lush. How he managed to keep from hauling her back into the water and having his way with her he had no idea.
He pressed her legs further apart again. Her heels dug into his back, tugging him closer. Her desire for him was so bold he ached.