Flirting with Disaster (Jackson: Girls' Night Out 2)
“Yeah, but this morning—” He cut himself off and shot her a glance.
She nodded. “Jill was really, really embarrassed.”
Tom winced. “Well, maybe those two crazy kids will work something out on the drive home.”
She grinned. “It’s a pretty short drive.”
“Yeah, but you women on Spinster Row work crazy fast.”
Laughing, she let her body lean into him just the way it wanted to. Tom’s arm fit around her shoulders as if it belonged there. She melted into him and sighed with pleasure.
“Are you as tired as I am?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Want to go to bed?”
“Yes.” And it was that simple. Despite everything hanging over her, despite the fear of the past twenty-four hours, she forgot everything and just said yes.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THIS WAS SOMETHING NEW, Isabelle realized. The first time they were undressing and simply getting in bed together like civilized adults. But there was no reason to be too civilized about it. Isabelle stripped down to her panties, but she left her shirt on just because she wanted to feel him taking it off her.
Tom seemed to notice what she’d done and left his briefs on before he slid under the covers. That was fine with her. She wanted him to feel her hands dragging those off.
She took down her hair and got beneath the covers, too. Before she was even settled, Tom was on his elbow leaning above her, his bare chest and shoulders filling her vision. She reached for him without thinking, her hand seeking out the muscles of his chest.
“You look so beautiful,” he said, smoothing out her hair on the pillow.
“Maybe you’re tired.”
“No,” he said simply. “I’m just really happy I’m here tonight.”
“Me, too.” She traced a finger around his nipple, and he shivered.
“Jesus, you turn me on,” he said.
She laughed in delight as she felt his hand trail up her arm.
“This shirt turns me on, too.” His fingers dipped all the way down the narrow front opening. “Did you know it would? Did you wear it for me?”
She only gave a coy smile as his hand kept moving down, skimming over her abdomen and pushing the blanket out of the way. He touched her hip and then her t
high, his hand still light and slow. This was exactly what she’d wanted. Time and touch. Long moments of exploring, just this one chance for that.
His knuckles brushed the little pink panties she’d worn for him, and Isabelle shivered. She slid a foot up, bending her knee, but Tom had already moved on, curving over her belly.
He’d been watching the slow path his hand traveled. The only light in the room this time was from her bathroom, but it was more than enough to light her body and his hand and his gorgeous profile as he ducked his head to kiss her breast. He found her nipple through the thin fabric of her shirt and caught it with his teeth.
Her breath hitched, and she set a hand to his neck, despite that she was trying to hold on to her patience. She’d wanted it slow, and Tom was willing to give it to her.
The heat of his mouth teased her, and his teeth scraped over the slippery fabric, tormenting her. She felt his hand edge beneath the bottom of her shirt, and she tried not to squirm. He felt good against her stomach. She wanted to enjoy just that, and not anticipate what it would feel like when he cupped her breast and pressed his teeth into her nipple until she cried out.
But then her nails were against his neck, and her other hand was shaping the tight muscles of his shoulder, and she was arching into his mouth. His arms flexed as he shifted above her, and Isabelle slid a hand down to feel his biceps. He wasn’t bulky; he was lean and hard, and he felt so strong. “God,” she breathed, “you’re gorgeous.”
His hand spread over her breast, cupping her for a brief moment before he pushed her shirt up. Yes. She wanted his mouth on bare flesh now. She was already done with teasing. But Tom wasn’t.
She let go of him to get her shirt off, but he was still poised above her instead of pouncing on top of her. “I could look at you forever,” he said. She shook her head, but he didn’t notice because he was tracing a fingertip around her tightening areola.