Scorched (Frigid 2)

I bit down on my lip when his thumbs started to move in slow circles around my ankles, and I almost tasted blood when one of his hands traveled up my calf. Those fingers worked deftly, easing the tension out of my muscles, but creating a whole different kind of tautness throughout the rest of me. When he reached the sensitive spot behind my knee, I swallowed a moan that would’ve embarrassed me.

Each pass of his fingers, each touch sent waves of heat licking up my leg. Blood simmered in my veins as I desperately tried to curb my body’s reaction. There was really no point, though. By the time his hand had reached the inside of my knee, I was having trouble sitting still and not squirming.

Tanner’s gaze was fastened on the many explosions occurring on the TV, and it almost seemed like he had no idea what he was doing to me, but I doubted his innocence and I also doubted how I’d be able to successfully pretend I wasn’t affected.

But the most amazing thing that was happening had nothing to do with the pleasure he was slowly creating inside me, but everything to do with the fact I was even sitting there. I was trying, like I’d said I would, and I wasn’t letting my head get in the way or allowing all the self-doubt to pile up on me. I was just there—right there and no place else, and I wasn’t letting myself go anywhere else. And there were no outside influences. Well, other than the rather major influence Tanner was turning out to be.

His hand reached the spot where my legs were pressed together, and I swore my heart skipped a beat as I stared at where his hand rested. Slowly, I lifted my gaze. He was no longer paying attention to the movie. Our eyes locked, and even in the low light of the living room, those bedroom eyes of his were full of heat.

I caught my lower lip between my teeth as I opened my legs to his wandering hand. One side of his lips tipped up in response. He didn’t look away as he slid his hand further up, the tips of his fingers nearly reaching the sensitive crevice near the apex of my thighs.

My heart was pounding as his hand moved underneath the skirt of my dress. I could barely catch my breath as he turned his attention back to the movie. I was completely lost, though. No pretending. My eyes drifted closed and then my head fell back against the thick cushion. His touch was featherlight against the inside of my thigh, but it was still driving me crazy. With each pass of his fingers, he came dangerously close to my center. He never quite reached there, and it was the sweetest kind of torture. A tingling warmth invaded me, quickening my breaths. He touched, he explored and caressed all without touching me there, but my desire was ramped up. A fine tremor danced over my skin. I wanted him, needed him to touch me where I ached.

Unsure of how much time had passed, I opened my eyes and found him watching me. For a moment, I couldn’t move, couldn’t even drag in a deep enough breath. Then I was moving without thinking, and there was something beautiful in that, the freedom.

I shifted onto my knees, and Tanner must’ve been thinking along the same lines, because he gripped my hips and hauled me into his lap. A heartbeat passed before our mouths came together, and there was no slow seduction in that moment.

We devoured each other, and when I pressed down, I felt how affected he was. He might’ve looked like he’d been paying attention to the TV, but he’d been focused on what he was doing.

His hands slid down my hips, under my skirt. The rasp of his calloused palms over my skin was probably one of the most sensual things I’d ever felt. “I was wondering how long it would take you,” he said, his lips brushing mine. “I was starting to get disappointed over here.”

I laughed softly, but it ended in a moan when he raised his hips against mine. I clasped his cheeks, loving the way the bristle along his jaw tickled my palms. “You were driving me crazy.”

“Were?”

I kissed him. “Are.”

“That sounds better.” His hands smoothed over my bottom and squeezed, causing knots to form low in my belly.

My body rocked against his as he broke free from the kiss and blazed a path down my throat. His hands moved deftly, sliding back down my legs, and then they were at the top of my dress. Before I could take my next breath, he’d tugged the top part down, exposing me.

The dress had one of those built-in bras, so now there was nothing between me and his hungry gaze. I cried out, my head falling back as his mouth found the way to the tip of my breast. He licked and nipped as he teased and taunted me.

There was another explosion on the TV, and I was close to exploding myself. He sucked greedily once his mouth clasped down, and a riot of sensations floored me. I moved on him, riding him in a way that made me wish there were no clothes separating us.

One of his hands—I couldn’t keep track of which one—made its way under my dress again, and I really loved where it was heading. His fingers slipped under the band of my panties, toyed there for a few moments, and then slipped out. I didn’t have a chance to be disappointed, because the next thing I knew, I was on my back on the couch and his hands were on my knees.

“I want to taste you,” he said, voice rough, and I shivered.

My mouth dried, and there was no mistaking what he meant when he said that. I didn’t protest when he eased my knees apart. This was so intimate, almost too intimate. Air lodged in my throat, and I fought against the urge to close my legs.

Thick lashes lifted as his eyes met mine. “You want this?”

Nervous and excited, I could barely get the word out. “Yes.”

“Thank fucking God, because I’ve been dying to know what it’s like to have you come on my tongue.”