The Mckenzie Artifact by Alison Kent

Author:Alison Kent [Kent, Alison]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780758206763
Published: 2005-02-01T00:00:00+00:00

Nine

Amazingly enough, they'd both slept. He didn't realize that he'd done so until he came awake sometime before dawn. His history of sleeping with women was about notching his bedpost—not about actually falling asleep.He and Stella had both done so, so soundly that neither had woke when they'd tangled together in limbs and bedclothes. And now he found himself scooted to the foot of the bed while she had shifted up the other direction.

This put his face—since she was flat on her back and he lay turned toward her—on her chest, his nose pressed to her breast, his mouth near enough to her nipple that a flick of his tongue and he'd taste her. Taste the T-shirt she wore anyway, and that was close enough.

It was early morning, and he was a man, and whatever they'd offered one another last night—solace or comfort or a sense of all being safe—no longer mattered. All that mattered was this hazy, dreamlike state and her body. He wanted sex and he wanted it from her.

He spread his hand over her belly, fanning out his fingers so that his thumb brushed the lower curve of one breast, his little finger the edge of her panties. Considering her panties were no more than a fabric scrap held on by elastic, he was pretty damn close to touching her.

She stirred slightly, stretching her arms overhead and moving her body toward him as if seeking more of his touch. Imagined or real, he took her up on the offer, cupping her far breast beneath the T-shirt, nuzzling his face into the near one, deciding as much as he liked her wearing his things, the shirt had to go.

He raised up onto one elbow and leaned over, dislodging the blanket. The faint light filtering through the window above the bed barely allowed him to see. Feeling was another thing entirely, and he was able to learn all about her with the touch of his hands, pushing the hem of the shirt to her neck, angling over her, tucking into her cleavage, breathing her in.

She groaned softly, one hand coming down to cup the back of his head, her back arching up instinctively. He liked her reaction, liked it a lot, and tilted his hips more toward her, wedging one knee between hers. She spread her legs accordingly, but he waited.

He wasn't yet sure how much of this she thought she was dreaming, and he wanted her fully awake. He wanted her permission less than he wanted her participation. But he wouldn't take her without having both, no matter the maddening insistence of his hard-on.

He nuzzled the skin of her belly, kissed her abdomen, stroked his hand the length of her thigh. When she finally woke, she stilled and stiffened and forgot for a long time to breathe. He knew that because by then he'd rested his head on her bare chest and she wasn't moving.

And so he kissed her, a very soft, very subtle brush of his lips to her sternum.

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