When he curled his hands around my calves, looked up into my eyes, and caressed the backs of my legs, I swayed with absolute want. I knew it had been a long time since I’d been with a man, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt this strong a pull toward anyone before.
A tugging sensation deep in my womb caused another rush of wet between my legs, and Arran’s attention lowered there. His hands climbed higher before smoothing around my upper thighs. Gliding his thumbs toward my inner thighs, he pressed gently, and I automatically parted my legs for him.
My breathing grew louder, shallower, as Arran gently slid two thick fingers inside me. I gasped at the fullness.
“Ery,” he groaned and rested his forehead against my right thigh. “You’re so wet.”
I flushed with embarrassment because I guessed that was what eight years of loneliness did to you. Or maybe it was just the Arran Adair effect.
Easing his fingers from me, Arran pushed my nightie up. “Hold it for me.”
I clasped the fabric to my belly. And then Arran lifted my left leg over his shoulder, and I moaned as I realized his intent. Resting my free hand on his opposite shoulder for balance, I arched my back into him, and he made a guttural noise of desire seconds before his tongue touched my clit.
Need slammed through me, and I undulated against his mouth. His fingers dug into my thigh, and his groan vibrated through my core.
“Arran. Arran,” I moaned.
He suckled my clit, pulling on it hard, and I panted as tension built deep inside, coiling like a spring. His tongue circled and then slid down in a voracious lick before pushing inside me.
“Yes!” I cried, thrusting against his mouth as I climbed higher and higher toward breaking apart completely. All my inhibitions had well and truly flown out the window as I gave myself over to feeling.
As if he felt how close I was, Arran returned to my clit and gently pushed two fingers inside me.
The tension was unbearable, and then suddenly it shattered, the release so epic and pleasurable, I shuddered against Arran’s mouth for what seemed like forever.
He lowered my trembling leg, and I swayed against him as he stood. And it wasn’t enough. As amazing as the orgasm was, it felt like I had a hundred more still locked inside. I wasn’t done.
A thrilling feeling of power overwhelmed me as our eyes held. He smoldered, and his jaw set with a fierce need. I lifted my arms to help him pull my nightie over my head.
My chest heaved with my labored, excited breaths as Arran threw the silk to the floor and brought his hands to my shoulders. His eyes followed his fingertips as they trailed with excruciating slowness across my collarbone and down toward the rise of my breasts. I rarely wore a bra with the nightie, but something wicked in me had wanted to tease him, so I’d donned one of my sexiest white-lace bras.
My breasts were small and perky, and I’d grown to like them, but when I was younger, I’d been insecure about their size when an ex-boyfriend suggested a boob job. That was what living in LA brought you.
I had no insecurities about how Arran felt about my body, though, because he looked at me with a reverence no one ever had.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, as if to prove my point, and goose bumps prickled in the wake of his touch. My nipples peaked against my bra with anticipation.
“Arran …” My tone practically begged.
In answer to my needy plea, he gripped my hips and pulled me tight to him so I could feel his erection against my bare stomach.
Gently, he cupped my face in his hands. “Is kissing allowed?” he asked gruffly.
“You’ve already kissed me,” I reminded him saucily.
He grinned. “Well, now, I feel like I kind of jumped the gun. I should have kissed you on the mouth first, and I’d really like to do that now.”
I swear my lips plumped at the thought. “Then kiss me.”
Arran made a sound low in the back of his throat and then his mouth was on mine as he kissed me so deeply, I could taste myself. Slow, sexy, and tender kisses that brought tears to my eyes. They made it feel like more than what this night was supposed to be. His kisses felt right. And I wanted more. So many more kisses from Arran Adair.
I curled my hands around his biceps to push him away. He breathed heavier, faster, searching my eyes, a frown appearing between his brows at whatever he saw there.
One of those voices in the back of my head whispered that going any further was a bad idea. Those kisses had not been casual.
And this was supposed to be casual.