Snowflake Bay by Donna Kauffman

Author:Donna Kauffman [Kauffman, Donna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2015-08-02T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Ben slid his hands up her thighs, his thumbs drawing a direct line along the tender flesh of her inner thighs, where the air between them got hot and moist. They both groaned when he brushed his thumb along the seam of her pants, making her jerk against the pressure. His body jerked, too, begging to be freed and allowed its own chance to press against all that damp, dark, heat.

He continued to stroke her with his thumb, as he broke their kiss and leaned her back so he could lower his mouth to her nipples, both of them constricted into hard points, clearly visible through the soft cotton of her T. He pulled one into his mouth, desperately wishing he could make the barriers between his tongue and her soft flesh disappear, but willing to take whatever substitute he could get.

And then she was bucking against his thumb and he was torn on whether he should take it away so he could unzip her jeans and yank them and whatever else she had on under them down her legs . . . and continue his dual assault on her most sensitive parts. Her hands fisted in his hair, answering that dilemma and keeping his mouth right where it was. He grinned and greedily accepted the direction.

“Ben, Ben,” she gasped. “Oh!”

And then she was shuddering and shaking, coming apart all over him, all around him, as he continued to suckle, continued to stroke, coaxing her to ride the sensation for as long as she was able, wondering if he could hold out long enough to get his pants off. Never in his life, even as a green kid copping his first feel, groping around in the dark with Mary Ann Grenoble, had he ever felt so on the edge of losing complete control.

Fiona’s response to him was earthy and primal, and she didn’t bother pretending otherwise. She was loud and she was demanding, and she didn’t give a damn what he thought about that, which only made him more desperate to sink deep inside of her and see what other depths they could reach together. He was half certain it might kill him. And he’d arrive at the pearly gates grinning like a madman.

Then she was pushing at his head, squeezing her thighs closed against his thumb, and grappling at the waistband of his jeans. He didn’t have to be asked twice. He made sure she was stable on the counter, then all but clawed off all three layers of Henley, long underwear, and T-shirt he’d worn under his hoodie in a single over-the-head yank. He watched her unbutton her jeans and tug at the zipper, revealing a scrap of emerald-green silk that drove him tottering ever closer to the edge.

He went to shove down his jeans, then at the last second snagged his wallet out of his back pocket . . . which was when he remembered. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”

“What?” she panted, her eyes dark and languorous

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