Triplets Under the Tree

Too numb to speak, she nodded, but before she could properly school her expression or her thoughts or her...anything, the towel fell away and... Oh, my. He was utterly divine in all his glory, hard everywhere, with a jutting erection she’d felt when he’d kissed her in the gym, but never in a million years would she have thought it would look like that.

She couldn’t stop drinking him in. And he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to stop her.

“By the way,” he murmured, “you know you’re going to do this for me in a minute, right?”

“Do what?” Then she clued in. “You mean lie in front of the window naked so you can stare at me?”

A wolfish smile bloomed on his face. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for that,” she muttered.

He flipped onto his hands and knees and crawled to her, kneeling between her legs. “Then, I’ll have to fix that. Because I want to see you in the moonlight. I want to watch your face as I make love to you. And you will most definitely need to be naked for that.”

With exquisite care, he cupped her face with both hands and brought her lips to his.

This kiss was nothing like the one a minute ago, when there’d still been a towel and some modesty between them. There was nothing but Antonio between her legs, and when his mouth claimed hers in a scorching kiss, he palmed the small of her back and shoved her to the edge of the couch, almost flush with his body. Close, so close, and she arched involuntarily, seeking his heat.

His tongue plunged toward hers, possessing her with his taste, with his intoxicating desire. Moaning, she slid her arms around his strong torso, reveling in the feel of his sleek, heated skin under her palms. A small movement forward, just the slightest tilt of her hips, and his erection would brush her center.

And she ached for that contact. Desire emboldened her and she strained for it.

When it came, she gasped. He must have sensed her instant need for more because he pressed harder, rubbing in small circles. Heat exploded at her core and her head tipped back in shock.

He followed the line of her throat with his luscious lips, laving the tender skin expertly until he got a mouthful of her blouse. She nearly wept as his mouth lifted.

“I’m going to take this off,” he murmured and fingered the first button for emphasis. “Okay?”

She nodded, appreciative that he respected her nerves enough to ask. Plus, she was very interested in getting his magic mouth back on her skin. “Seems fair. You’re not wearing a shirt.”

His warm chuckle had a hint of wicked that shuddered through her. Now, that was delightful.

“I’m not wearing anything. If you want to talk about fair...”

“You know what, you’re right.”

This imbalance wasn’t fair. She stood quickly without thought of his proximity, and it was a testament to his superior balance that she didn’t bowl him over.

He sat back on his muscular haunches, completely at ease in his own skin. She wanted to be that confident. To feel as if she belonged here, able to handle a man as virile and gorgeous as Antonio. There was only one way. She had to get over this virgin hump and take this night—her destiny, her pleasure—into her own hands. It wasn’t Antonio’s job to lead her through this.

He desired her. It was in his expression, in his words. In the hard flesh at his center. What purpose did it serve to protect her maidenly modesty? None.

She wanted him to take her in the basest sense. Now. And she wanted it to be hot. Sinful. Explosive. He could make that happen, she had no doubt. But he was holding back. She could feel it.

“I’m ready,” she announced, and though her hands shook, she slipped the first button on her blouse from its mooring.

His eyelids lowered a touch as he watched her move on to the next button. “Ready?”

Third button. Fourth. “For you to see me. In the moonlight.”

Heat flared in his expression and he hummed his approval. The sexy sound empowered her. Last button.

She slipped the blouse from her frame, gaze glued to his, and let it float from her fingers. That wasn’t so bad. The clasp on her bra was a little harder to undo even though it was in front, and she couldn’t even blame that on being a novice; she’d definitely taken her bra off a million times in her life, but never in front of a man, and this was it—the first time a man would see her bare breasts—and suddenly, the clasp came apart in her hands.

Well, that was the point, wasn’t it?