Stop it, he thought again, but then Lissa clasped his face and drew his head down to hers and he saw the wildness in her beautiful eyes, saw the way her hair had come undone and tumbled around her face, and the voice faded and died.
He was still a man. The body parts that mattered worked, he thought, and he cupped her breast through the thin cotton of her T-shirt and she gasped. Her lashes fluttered to her cheeks and he groaned with pleasure, dipped his head to her breast and bit lightly through the cotton.
She moaned.
He drew back. Undid the first button on his shirt, then the next and the next.
Lissa slid her hands inside his open shirt. The feel of her fingers against his skin made him shudder.
“Wait,” he growled, and he reached for her T-shirt, almost forgetting for the moment that he had only one free hand, that he was balanced on a crutch.
Stripping off her shirt using only one hand was impossible.
The first tiny bit of reality danced into his head and he said something, low and sharp.
She silenced him with a quick kiss. Then she clasped the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head.
Suddenly, all that mattered was looking at her.
She was beautiful. So beautiful. Skin touched with gold by the sun. Lush breasts straining above the half-cups of a white lace bra.
Nick cupped one breast. She made a sharp little sound of pleasure. His eyes locked to hers as he swept his thumb over her lace-covered nipple.
She cried out.
His erection became almost painful.
The bra had a front clasp. A man didn’t need two hands to undo it, and Nick sent a silent thank you to whatever genius had invented it. Still, it took a couple of seconds before the damned thing came apart and her breasts tumbled free.
They were all he could have dreamed they would be.
Round. Lovely. High. And, God, her nipples… They were a deep, elegant rose.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered. “So amazingly beautiful.”
Lissa felt her lips curve.
Nick’s gaze was like a silken caress. Slowly, oh so slowly, he bent his head to her, drew the tip of one breast into the heat of his mouth.
Her knees all but buckled.
He wrapped his arm around her waist, supported her as he sucked on her nipple, licked at it, rolled his tongue around it until she sobbed his name. She clasped the nape of his neck and he groaned and moved against her, his erection pressing hard into her belly.
Her thighs were wet.
She was, oh, she was soaked. How could that have happened so quickly? She was hot and wet and she needed him inside her, inside her, inside her…
She shoved his shirt back on his shoulders, dragged his head up, kissed him and pressed her body to his, groaning along with him when her breasts flattened against his hair-roughened chest.
She was trembling.
“Nick,” she whispered.
He put his hand under her chin, lifted her face to his and kissed her. She sucked the tip of his tongue into the heat of her mouth.
“Nick,” she said again, and he heard what she wanted in that one softly-spoken plea.
He put his hand between them, reached for the top button of her jeans and fumbled with it.