The slickness of the inside of her cheek.
The warm tangle of her tongue.
God, this girl feels amazing. She is amazing and though I kissed her at first just to shut her up, now I’m kissing her because I can’t not kiss her. I can’t let go, not when she’s so hot and eager and sweet. So goddamned sweet.
We kiss for minutes, for hours, for what feels like seconds, my mouth devouring every inch of hers, our tongues stroking and tangling and melting against each other.
We kiss until her lips puff up against mine, until her chest rises and falls rapidly, until her breath stutters against my own.
Then we kiss some more.
When there really is no more oxygen and she’s making low, needy sounds deep in her throat, I force myself to pull back. Tansy moans, clings to me, her lips desperately seeking to connect with mine again.
It’s all the invitation I need.
I slam my mouth down on hers again for one last taste, then—panting—skim my lips across her cheek, down her jaw. I lick a little at the sensitive skin just beneath her ear, press soft, warm kisses down her neck until I find myself at the delicate hollow of her throat.
She tilts her head back, gives me better access, and I nudge the soft cashmere of her sweater out of the way so that I can lick and taste and explore the creaminess of her skin. How the fuck can she taste this good, this sweet, I wonder, right before I drown in the feel and smell and sound of her. Right before I drown in her.
Desire rips through me, claws at my insides until I’m raw. Until there’s nothing I want more—nothing I need more—than Tansy.
Desperate for her, for everything she has to give, I press against her, moving her backward until she’s pressed against the rock wall of the resort. We’re in the shadows now, away from the twinkling lights that weave through the iron bars of the balcony, and no one can see us. What we’re doing or how crazy she makes me.
I press even harder into her. I want to feel her curves against me, her hard little nipples pressed to my chest, her pussy pressed to my cock. But she’s tiny, delicate, and our bodies don’t quite match up the way I want them to.
She moans a little, moves restlessly against me, and whatever small amount of control I’ve managed to hang on to buckles like a cornice under pressure. I slide my hands down, cup her ass and then lift her up so that her body lines up perfectly with my own.
Tansy gasps, and her arms tighten around my neck at the same time her legs wrap around my waist. I pull back a little, try to get a glimpse of her face in the dim light.
Fuck. She looks … amazing. Sultry, hot, and so goddamn fuckable it’s all I can do to keep my dick in my jeans. Her skin is flushed a soft pink—partly from her arousal, I think, and partly from the three days’ worth of stubble I’ve got on my chin. Her lips are red and wet and swollen from our kisses. And her eyes … shit, her eyes. She’s looking at me, her eyes wide with a desire she doesn’t even try to hide.
Suddenly, I’m terrified. Because I don’t want to just kiss her, don’t want to just fuck her. I want to wreck her. The thought slams through me like an avalanche. I want to get inside her, to watch her unravel at the seams. To pull her apart from the inside out and watch her drown in pleasure. Watch it absolutely ruin her.
And I can do it. Right here, right now.
She wants me. I know it. I can hear it in the ragged breaths she struggles to take, feel it in every anxious shimmy of her hips against my own. See it in those crazy eyes of hers, their pupils blown out with the same need that’s clawing through me.
But she’s been drinking. She’s not sloppy with it, not even drunk, I don’t think. But she is relaxed, warm and soft and compliant with it, and that means I can’t take her the way I want to. Can’t plunge inside of her and feel her come completely undone around my dick. Not when I don’t know how much of this wild ride is coming from her and how much is because of the fucking booze.
“Ash, please,” she whimpers, her legs tightening around my waist as her hips move against mine.
I almost say fuck it, almost rip my jeans open, pull down her leggings a
nd plunge inside of her. Right here, right now, and to hell with the consequences.
But I’m not that guy. Never have been, never will be. Oh, I’ve taken a hell of a lot of snowbunnies up on their invitations in the last six months—for no other reason than because it stops me from thinking for a few minutes—but Tansy isn’t like those other girls, who wanted to sleep with Ash Lewis just to say they had. She’s different. She deserves more than a quick rut up against the side of the resort.
“Ash!” she says again, and this time she sounds more desperate, her hips moving against mine like she’s in pain.
Like she really does need this as much as I do. Maybe even more.
I want to come against her, inside her, want to plunge into her mouth and have her suck me to oblivion. Want to slam into her body and ride her all the way to ecstasy.
But that’s not in the cards for tonight, not when I lean in to kiss her and can still taste the wine on her tongue.
The thought sends a new wave of heat spiraling through me and when she grinds herself against me, her pussy so hot and wet that I can feel it through both of our clothes, I know I can’t leave her like this.
I take a deep, shuddering breath, reach for a control that I’m not sure I have. I press into her—once, twice, then again and again—until she’s writhing against me, her breath coming in broken pants that make me impossibly harder.