Absent in the Spring (The Shakespeare Sisters 3)

‘Don’t go there,’ he said through clenched teeth.

‘You told me tonight was all about me. I can do what I like, remember?’ She clambered over him until her legs were straddling his waist. Hmm, there was that other sensitive part of him, too, pressing in a way that made her feel very, very good. ‘Now put your hands above your head and don’t move.’

He shook his head. ‘That’s not happening.’

‘Are you reneging on our deal?’ she asked. ‘Because I distinctly heard you say I could tell you what to do tonight.’

‘You didn’t say anything about torturing me.’

She grabbed his hands, folding her fingers around them. They were big, strong, just like the rest of him. ‘I don’t remember you placing any caveats on this.’

‘Some things go without saying,’ he told her. ‘Tickling is definitely out of bounds.’ She loved the way he was looking at her, desire and apprehension all mixed into one. As though she was the only thing that mattered in the world right then.

With her eyes on him, she lifted up his hands, so that his arms were pointing to the ceiling. ‘I disagree,’ she said, pushing them further still, until his knuckles were brushing against the headboard, leaving him exposed. So many tender points were in front of her. The sides of his torso, the soft skin beneath his arms. Where to start?

He curled his hands around her wrists. ‘Remember,’ he said, his jaw tight, ‘I’m in charge tomorrow night.’

‘Tomorrow schmorrow,’ she said, tugging to get her hands free. ‘Now let me go.’

‘Lucy…’

She gave him a mischievous grin, shuffling back until she grazed against his erection. She rotated her hips, and he gave a groan, his head dropping back.

‘Jesus, you’re going to kill me.’

‘Well, then I wouldn’t have to worry about tomorrow,’ she said, her voice light. ‘Now let go of my hands, Lachlan.’ She moved again, grinding herself against him. Jesus, he felt hard.

Slowly, he unfurled his fingers, releasing his hold on her. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. ‘I guess it’s a good way to go.’

‘Being tickled to death?’ she asked, wiggling her fingers just to see his reaction. ‘Yeah, I can think of worse ways.’

He bit his lip as she moved her hands to his chest, splaying her fingers until they grazed his nipples. He inhaled sharply at her touch, his hips moving in an attempt to gain friction against her. She lifted herself up enough to foil his plan.

‘I could get used to this power,’ she said, slowly inching her hands to the side of his body. ‘I could get used to touching you, too.’

‘If you’re going to tickle me, get on with it.’ He groaned. ‘I can’t deal with this.’

She leaned forward until her face was only a few inches from his. ‘I’m not letting you off that easily,’ she breathed. ‘The best part of tickling is taking somebody by surprise.’ Closing the gap between their mouths, she pressed her lips to his. ‘Don’t kiss me back,’ she murmured. His lips were soft, warm, and still as she moved hers against them. It felt strange to kiss him when he wasn’t responding, but delicious, too.

Emboldened, she ran the tip of her tongue along the seam of his mouth, feeling as much as hearing the moan escaping from him. Still kissing him, she stroked his nipples with her thumbs, circling her hips again until she felt his hard ridge against her.

‘You’re slaying me,’ he mumbled.

‘Ssh,’ she whispered, ‘I didn’t say you could talk.’

Was it wrong that she was completely turned on by the man beneath her? There was something intoxicating about being able to touch him the way she wanted. About teasing him until he was barely able to keep control. She knew he was letting her do it, that in a second he could flip her over, show his strength. And yet he was resisting, letting her take the lead. It only made her want him more.

Dragging her lips along his jawline, she could feel his scruff scraping her tender skin. Then she moved further, down his throat to his chest, feeling his strangled breaths vibrating against her mouth.

This was turning her on like crazy. Her whole body was tingling every time she touched him. And every time she rolled her hips, pleasure shot through her like a pulse of electricity.

She paused when she reached his pectorals, breathing warm air onto his skin. Glancing up, she could see his hands still above his head, his tight fists gripping the pillow. He was staring at her, his eyes heated and dark, as he watched her slowly move her lips around his nipple. Curious to see what he’d do, she reached the tip of her tongue out, barely grazing the raised skin. He hitched his hips in a reflex response.

‘Goddamn it.’ His head dropped back.

‘You’re swearing a lot tonight.’

‘You’re making me swear.’