But because he knew he couldn’t, the pressure grew. “You should take better care of yourself. You need to leave.”
“If you want me to leave, I’ll leave, but first I’m going to ask you the same question I asked you the other night in the forest. The one you didn’t answer. If we’d met for the first time a few weeks ago, what would we be doing now?”
That was easy. “We’d be having sex without coming up for air and—” He sucked in a breath as she pulled her top over her head and slid her cargoes over her hips. All woman, she stepped out of them and stood in front of him in nothing more than silk and lace.
He couldn’t see or hear past the roaring of lust in his head. “What the hell are you doing? You said you were going to leave.”
“I said I’d leave if that was what you wanted. It isn’t.” She pushed her clothes away with the toe of her bare foot and his mouth dried.
“I told you—”
“You told me that sex is nothing more than a physical workout for you. You can’t feel. I know. I heard you. So let’s share a physical workout. Exercise is good for you, it’s a medically proven fact and I’d rather have a naked marathon with you than pump iron in the gym. And, Zach, you’re going to feel something—” She gave him a smile that made it impossible for him to think.
Up until the point where he’d met Brittany, his life had been about taking care of himself when no one else would, keeping himself safe and alive. Other people’s feelings had come low on his agenda, mostly because he’d grown up knowing that he was the only person looking out for himself. His connection with women had been on one level only, a physical one. The only time he’d broken that rule had been Brittany and even though he knew she hadn’t really loved him, he knew he’d hurt her and he’d regretted it.
But she gave him no opportunity for more argument because she stepped forward and he felt the silken brush of her skin against his and breathed in the scent of her hair.
He was still fighting the crashing waves of lust when he felt her fingers on the waistband of his damp board shorts.
“You can’t—”
“I can, and you should stop talking now.” Her voice husky, she dragged the shorts down and slid to her knees.
“Brittany—” Her name jammed in his throat and his vision blurred as she took him in her mouth.
When they’d been together the first time, he’d been the one to lead the way on everything. He’d nudged her out of her comfort zone, although nudge was perhaps too gentle a word for what he’d done. The moment she’d turned eighteen, he’d considered it his duty to teach her everything she didn’t already know, which had turned out to be a lot. She’d been gutsy and independent, but sexually inexperienced. He’d given her an intensive course and plenty of practice, making no concessions to shyness and embarrassment.
Apparently she’d left shyness behind.
He felt the warm heat of her soft mouth slide over him and his mind shut down. He knew that if she carried on it would be over in five minutes and nothing that felt this good should be over that fast.
Finding willpower he didn’t know he had, he eased away from her, hauled her to her feet and powered her back to the bed, catching her as she lost her balance.
Careful to protect her wrist, he lowered her to the bed.
“I want to feel something.” His tone was raw. “I want to—”
“I know—” she drew his head down to hers “—I know you do. And it will happen. We just have to be patient. And in the meantime if you could do that thing you do, that would be great because you’re killing me here.”
He breathed her name against her mouth, feeling her soft lips part under the pressure of his. He kissed her slowly, skillfully, taking his time. Then he eased away, stripped off the last of her clothes and slid his hands over warm skin and secret places until she was moaning under him.
“You don’t have to take it slowly.” Her voice was desperate and she slid her leg over his hips and arched against him. “I need you—I need you to—”
“Not yet.” He wanted to take it slowly. Maybe if he took his time, if he savored every moment—and he did that, exploring every part of her, starting with the curve of her neck, then her shoulder and lower to the peak of her breasts. When she writhed and shifted, he flattened her to the bed, trapping her with his weight.
He felt her push against his shoulder with her good hand but he kept her pinned beneath him as he explored her with his mouth. He felt her nipple harden under the slow stroke of his tongue and heard her breathing grow shallow. The taste of her skin was like a drug, and he tasted and licked, his hunger for her building. It burned through him, ravenous, insatiable, and he knew she felt the same way because she squirmed under him, the supple lift of her body an explicit invitation.
Through the clouds of dizzying pleasure he could hear her saying his name, over and over again, until the soft pleas became sobs and the movement of her hips against him became almost frantic.
Still he held her down, ignoring his almost all-consuming need for her, willing himself to feel something other than blazing sexual heat.
Her body had changed, her breasts deliciously rounded and her thighs lean and strong from long hours spent outdoors. He explored those changes with his mouth and the tips of his fingers, touching her skin, breathing in the scent of her, tracing every soft feminine inch with his tongue.
When he finally stroked his hand between her legs, she moaned, and when his fingers slid skillfully into that vulnerable part of her, she parted her legs.
He slid his mouth over her hip and lower to the inside of her thigh, then traced her with his tongue. This, he knew how to do. He knew exactly how to touch her and with each gentle glide and flick he drove her closer and closer to the edge. He could feel every ripple and tremor of her flesh and he responded until she was writhing under him. He felt her hand on his shoulder and knew what she wanted but he wasn’t ready to give it to her. Wasn’t ready to give up hope that being with her could break that lock inside him.
Through the heat of his own desire he heard her saying his name over and over again, telling him how much she wanted him, how she couldn’t wait any longer, how he was killing her, but still he drew out the torture.