I felt the heat of his breath first, the warning before his lips touched mine. And when they did, it was a barely there brush, a hot, glancing touch.
My fingers dug into his arms, silently urging him to really kiss me.
I was desperate for it.
But Roane was determined to take his time. Another whisper of a kiss, then a slightly deeper press, a nibble on my lower lip.
A whimper escaped me.
It shattered whatever restraint Roane had lassoed around himself. His hands clasped the back of my neck, hauling me against his body as his mouth pressed hard to mine. I opened my mouth to let him in, and his groan of satisfaction rumbled through me.
The tickle of his beard was surprisingly erotic on my skin. I’d dated guys who had stubble, which was abrasive, but Roane’s thicker beard was slightly wiry and softer than the prickle of stubble. It felt rugged, masculine, my opposite, and it was a big turn-on. Roane was aroused too. I could feel evidence of how much he wanted me digging into my stomach as he savored me with tender reverence that was sexier than any kiss that had ever come before his. Sliding my hands down his back, feeling the hot, smooth strength of him under my touch, I melted into him. His hands drifted down from my neck, and with teasing strokes, Roane studied my body—my ribs, my waist. When he touched my stomach, I fumbled the kiss and he broke it to gaze down at me through lust-fogged eyes.
Watching me, he deliberately ran the backs of his knuckles across my belly. “Every inch, angel.” His voice was hoarse.
I relaxed, feeling a little embarrassed by my self-consciousness, but that abashment didn’t last long as he bent to recapture my mouth. Roane’s hands glided around to my ass, where he cupped both cheeks and drew me against his arousal. As he ground into me, his tongue caressed mine in deep, wet strokes, growing wild and almost bruising. I wondered what that beard would feel like between my thighs.
I groaned at the thought.
Roane suddenly broke the kiss, our breaths mingling as we panted against each other.
“Why did you stop?” I whispered.
“Because.” He squeezed his eyes closed as he rested his forehead against mine. “There’s plenty of time for us to fuck. I don’t want that for our first time. I want to make love to you.”
Oh my God, this man. “Are you even real?”
He chuckled and squeezed my ass, bringing me closer against his throbbing body. “What do you think?”
I moaned and reached for his mouth, nipping at his lower lip and then frowning when he let go of my ass to ease away from me. Amusement danced in his eyes at my consternation. “It’s good to know you want me too, angel.”
“Have you ever doubted it?”
He considered this. “When I tried to kiss you and you pulled away . . . aye, I doubted it.”
Guilt suffused me. “Roane, I didn’t pull away because I didn’t want you. I just . . . I didn’t come here expecting to find you.”
“But now that you have?”
I moved back into his body, sliding my hands to his front to caress his chest, my thumbs catching his nipples. His lashes fluttered, his chest rising and falling with his rapid breathing. “I want you to make love to me. Then after, I’ll want that fucking you mentioned.”
He grabbed me near the ribs, his squeeze almost bruising as he huffed, “You trying to speed things up, angel?”
I ran my fingertips down his happy trail. “No,” I confessed softly as I followed the line of his waistband, feeling his stomach ripple with my touch. “I like the way you savor me.”
Gaze hot and tender, Roane gave me an almost imperceptible nod before he reached around to the back of my bra. With excruciating slowness, he unhooked my bra and began to tease the straps down my arms. The cups caught on my nipples, and my breathing faltered as he seemed to become mesmerized by the sight. He gave the straps a slight pull and the bra fell away, dropping to the carpet with barely a sound.
Roane curled his hands around my upper arms, easing them from my side. My breasts weren’t delicate or perky. I suffered from the problem of side boob a lot, but if a guy was a breast man, then he usually liked what he saw.
Roane was clearly a breast man.
His hands tightened around my biceps while he devoured me with his eyes. My nipples peaked under his perusal, tight, needy buds that begged for his mouth. For his tongue.
He made a guttural sound in the back of his throat as he reached up and cupped me with both hands. My legs trembled so badly, I felt my knees give a little, and I arched into his touch with a moan. His calloused thumbs caught on my nipples, strumming and pinching them as he played with my breasts, sculpting and kneading. Arousal rippled deep and low inside me. Seriously, I couldn’t remember ever being this turned on in my life.