Losing Control (Kerr Chronicles #1) by Jen Frederick

Author:Jen Frederick [Frederick, Jen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 1503944107
Amazon: B00SZ35D4W
Publisher: Montlake Romance
Published: 2015-08-03T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 18

Steve is waiting for me outside in the gray car. When I crawl in, I notice that Ian is sitting right behind the driver’s seat. The light illuminates the interior for a few seconds after Steve closes the door. He rounds the front and then leans against the hood. I wait, a little breathlessly, to see Ian’s reaction.

“So I guess we’re staying in tonight,” he finally says when the light flickers out.

“What?” I ask, confused.

“You’re far too beautiful to be out in public.” He slides a finger around the boatneck opening of my sweatshirt, and we both watch as his finger pulls the fabric down so that the ball of my left shoulder is exposed. “Clearly I need to give better instructions about what’s appropriate attire. No bra, Tiny?”

His finger is circling my skin in some pattern known only to him. But that small contact is making me throb in a dozen other places. I slide closer to him, close enough to feel the fine wool of his trousers brush against my bare leg. I want to slip off my sandal and run my bare foot up the entire length of his leg. “No,” I croak out. “You’d see it in the back.” I turn slightly so he can see that the back of my shirt is just open lacework.

His hands sweep aside my hair to reveal my braless back. “How do your breasts feel without their restraint?” he asks, sliding two hands down my shoulder blades and then around to rest underneath my breasts. With a quick tug, I tumble backward so that I am leaning against his chest. I squirm a bit, wishing that there wasn’t his suit coat, shirt, and undershirt separating us. His mouth finds the tender skin where my neck and shoulder meet and he sucks, causing me to cry out in desire.

“God, Ian,” I moan.

“Your breasts,” he says again, “tell me how they feel.” His hands move downward and then sweep underneath my shirt. My breasts strain toward him, my nipples ache for his touch, but he doesn’t move and he won’t until I give him what he wants.

“They feel heavy. They ache,” I say.

He bites softly in the same spot. “Good girl.” I’m rewarded when he cups my breasts, one in each hand. He holds them loosely, almost as if weighing them to see if they are, indeed, heavier. “What do they ache for?”

“Your hands.” I place my own hands over his and press them harder against my chest. “Your fingers.”

“My mouth?” He sucks lightly on my neck. There’ll be a mark there, but I don’t care at this moment.

“Your mouth,” I agree breathlessly. His fingers begin to pinch my nipples all the while he’s palming the sensitive flesh. His mouth leaves my neck to place kisses and bites all along the back of my shoulders. My panties are getting damp, and I’m squeezing my thighs together, both to increase friction and assuage the ache that’s growing.

I don’t understand how he can

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