I'm No Angel by Patti Berg

I'm No Angel by Patti Berg

Author:Patti Berg
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins


12

Moonlight poured through the open French doors and danced across Tom’s body as he stretched out beside Angel in the massive Italian Renaissance bed. He was gorgeous and mesmerizing, and even now, as he slipped an arm beneath her neck and caressed her cheek with a callused palm, she couldn’t believe he’d run after her. That he still wanted her.

His first kiss was tender. Cautious. He breathed deeply, his eyes open, watching her with a gentle smile, just as she watched him.

“How’s that?” he whispered against her lips. “Too much?”

“I’ve got no problem with your kisses,” she said, curling into his body, slipping fingers into his hair, praying that this time she wouldn’t fall apart when he got too close. “In all honesty, I could lie here all night doing nothing more than kissing.”

Tom skimmed the tip of his tongue over her bottom lip. “Kissing’s fine for starters, but we’re going all the way, sweetheart. All the way.”

And God how he wanted her now. This very instant. But he’d promised to go slow. Taking his time, he touched her neck, his fingers feathering over soft, warm skin. Slowly, ever so slowly, he caressed her side, listening to each breath she took, waiting for the hesitancy and fear to go away. Inch after precious inch he captured each curve, each little mole in his memory.

He rested his fingers on the flare of her hip and deepened his kiss. Her lips parted. Their tongues touched. Mingled. And then they danced—a waltz, sweet and smooth and rhythmic. All the while he could feel the tension easing where his fingers cradled her shoulder, could hear small sighs deep within her.

While her senses were caught in the magic of their kiss, he rolled her onto her back and swept his palm to her belly. She flinched. He could have stopped kissing her. Could have said, ‘It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you,’ but he told her in actions what she might not believe in words.

His hand merely rested on her stomach. A light touch, nothing more. He could feel every breath she took and they came closer together, grew shorter, heavier, as his lips strayed from her mouth. He kissed her throat, drawing lazy circles with his tongue over her collarbone, her chest, at last arriving at her breast.

A sigh escaped him when he found her sweet, hardened nipple. God, that little nub tasted like manna from heaven, a feast he sorely doubted he could ever get enough of.

But now he wanted more.

Angel could feel every hard inch of Tom’s body pressed against her, could smell his heat, the scent of his aftershave, the chlorine that still lingered on his skin. He nibbled on her nipple, suckled her, and was driving her mad with a need she’d never felt before.

Slowly, tentatively, she reached out and threaded her fingers into his hair. He moaned when she touched him, and he looked up from her wet and swollen breast and smiled.

“How are you holding up?” he asked, a twinge of laughter in his eyes.



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