#MID WEEK TEASE

When last we saw Avery and Emeline they were in bed. So let’s  continue from there!

“Why did you agree to be my bodyguard? The truth.”

Heat traveled from her to him, straight to his cock. He leaned into the touch, seeking more. “Because I couldn’t take my eyes off you. Still can’t.” The fevered edge to his voice startled him.

Her mouth dropped open with a silent ‘Oh.’

She had to know what she did to him. And even though it was a mistake, and went against reality, Avery shifted and let her feel the proof of his desire. She blew out a sharp breath. Her eyes fluttered closed on a groan, and her pelvis arched. The towel blocked her heat from reaching him, but not his imagination. In his fevered mind, her slick flesh surrounded him as he glided inside her core. Her palms brushed his nipples and stroked the pebbled points.

He fisted his hands in her shirt; his shirt—desperate to view the hidden treasure—he dropped his head into the crux of her neck to keep from taking what he’d wanted from the first moment he stumbled upon her in the park. Plush lips caressed his temple. Her breath fanned his ear and arms circled his neck. His resolve shattered.

Their lips met in a duel of lips, tongue, and teeth. Butterscotch, that’s how she tasted. Butterscotch laced with liquor. Exotic and sinful as hell, so intoxicating he would soon be drunk. He licked and sucked and drank and gave up a bit of his soul.

Her breath swept through him like lightning striking the ground. It filled his lungs and spread to every inch of him, destroyed any resistance. He belonged to Emeline as if she’d owned him before, lost him, and had just found him again. Desire and desperation crashed through him in a blistering, undeniable wave.

His hand slid along her thigh, aimed at palming her tight rear. Her head dropped back on a long gasp and she rubbed herself against him. He licked his way down the column of her neck—savoring her skin, the silk under his tongue—to her cleavage and the curve of her breast. His hand glided up to her ass. No panties. Jesus!

He throbbed.

The towel loosened.

She said no sex. No. Sex. While the darkness inside of him chanted Take! Take! Take! He groaned in sweet anguish, couldn’t stop the sound. Her leg hooked his hip, brushed his waist. Her damp core kissed his lower abdomen and he tilted her hips to rub her wetness into his skin. It took everything he had not to yank the towel off and bury himself inside her.

Avery returned to her mouth, possessed her as he would her body with sweeping thrusts of his tongue. Emeline shuddered; she writhed in his arms. Both of her legs locked around his hips and her chest heaved, stabbing him with her nipples, while her gaze, those hazel eyes, never left his face.

“Let me see you.” He begged, not caring how hungry he sounded.

Her lips parted and she bit the corner. He was certain no would be her reply, but then—one button opened, then two, her fingers took their damn time. She didn’t part the two halves, but dropped her hands and waited with an expectant stare.

Avery gripped the edge of the shirt, a lifeline to his desires or an anchor to drown him. Either way, he would have this moment.

He parted the shirt and drank in the sight of her chocolate-kissed nipples, balanced on top of her pillowed breast. Her flat abdomen stretched like a caramel lake waiting for his tongue to sample. The curves of her hips begged for a man’s hand to stroke and hold on. Close cropped, curls covered the vee at the juncture of her thighs. He skimmed his hand down the center of her body, fanned his fingers over her ribs. Quivers rippled her abdomen as he brushed the back of his hand over her warm skin on his way to the soft curls at her core.

No. Sex.

She didn’t tell him no taste. Avery drew one nipple into his mouth and rolled the other between his thumb and forefinger. Emeline arched, giving her full breasts over to his care. After he’d laved each nipple, he eased his tongue down the center of her exquisite body and swore butterscotch coated her skin.

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