“Aren’t you cold?” she asked. She was warm in the robe. He was still naked, and it was definitely cool outside.
“Babe, I just got a look at your naked body. I’m anything but cold.”
He tugged her closer and kissed her. Heat flared and swelled her br**sts as he brought one arm around her back, drawing her against him. She stepped into the embrace, needing to feel his naked flesh against her naked flesh. It had been so long since she’d had that human contact of skin to skin, coupled with the passion that swelled inside her as AJ kissed her senseless.
They’d done damn near everything ten years ago, except they’d never been fully naked together. Oh, what she’d missed. The feel of his strong body against hers, the play of his muscles as she pressed her fingertips against his chest, the solid strength of him as he lifted her into his arms and carried her to her bedroom, as if she weighed nothing. And as he walked, he stared at her face, the intensity of his gaze a storm of rising passion. She shivered as he laid her on the bed and climbed on after her, pulling her against him.
“Cold?” he asked. “There’s a blanket on the end of the bed.”
“No. Not cold.” She traced his jaw with her fingertips, in awe that she was lying next to a naked man in bed. This was light-years of progress. No shattering fear, no rush of adrenaline screaming at her to flee. It helped that it was AJ, someone she knew and trusted, someone she knew she could say “stop” to at any moment and he would; it would end, and he wouldn’t be angry at her.
But she didn’t want to stop, didn’t want this to end. Not yet. She wanted AJ over her, on top of her, inside of her. She reached for his arm, pulling him toward her. He resisted, instead sliding his fingers in her hair, his fingertips moving around her scalp to the nape of her neck.
“You’re even more beautiful now than you were ten years ago.” One of his hands rested in her hair. He parted the robe and bared her body. She waited to tense up, but didn’t. Instead, she enjoyed his frank appraisal of her as his gaze swept from her feet to her face and all the places in between.
“Do you remember when we used to make out in my car?”
She smiled at the memory. It was such an innocent time. “Yes. You had that old Chevy Camaro.”
He shifted his movement, his hand sliding over her collarbone, his fingers resting on the swell of one breast. “With the too-small backseat.”
It was hard to focus on his conversation with his fingers tapping across her breast. “I don’t remember you complaining about the backseat then.”
“I was too busy trying to cop a feel to complain about anything.”
She giggled, and his palm slid over her breast. He let it rest there. “Like now?”
He arched a brow. “Like now. And just like then, I take each step slow and easy, waiting to see when you’re going to knee me in the balls and push me away.”
She laughed, her heart skipping a beat when he moved his palm over her nipple. It peaked against his hand, tightening with painful pleasure as he touched her with the barest tips of his fingers, floating over her ni**les like a feather. It was maddening and wonderful to be worshipped like this, a slow and lazy dance to reintroduce her to sex.
But she wanted more, and she arched against his hand to let him know it, watching the stormy reaction in his eyes. His hand stayed steady, though, floating from her br**sts to her ribs to her belly.
“I like this.” He circled the piercing at her navel. “Sexy.”
“I needed to take control over my body again after . . . after a while. That’s why I got the tattoo and the piercing.”
“I like them both.” He flicked the dangling jewel at her belly, then laid his palm flat below it, his fingers resting right above her sex.
Teresa sucked in a breath at this slow dance of seduction. She was wet and needy, and it had been far too long since any man had touched her in the sweet, passionate way she needed to be touched. The only orgasms she’d had in the past five years had been self-induced, and she was damn tired of doing it herself. Her body was in full-on awareness of having AJ next to her, and she wanted more than she was able to vocalize.
But apparently AJ knew just what to do. And when he slid his hand lower to cup her sex, taking her mouth in a deep kiss at the same time, she gasped and rolled toward him, arching her hips to drive against his hand. He hissed against her mouth and she felt the restraint in his tightened muscles, knew it cost him to take this slow ride with her when he was probably used to throwing a woman down and f**king her senseless.
She’d like to be f**ked senseless. But this was just what she needed right now, and she couldn’t help but be seduced by the maddening way AJ slid his hand over her wet flesh, parting his fingers as they glided over her clit and down her pu**y lips. He slipped his fingers inside her and used the heel of his hand to caress the tight nub, pumping and rubbing her until the sweet tension mounted and she lifted, rocking against his hand, arching ever closer to the hot, tingling pleasure.
She was already pathetically close to orgasm, but she wanted to wait, first because she didn’t want to embarrass herself by coming almost immediately, and second because it felt so damn good to be touched like this she didn’t want it to end too soon. She needed to soak this in, to experience every second and burn it into her memory.
If she allowed herself to think too much about it, she’d self-combust. A man was touching her again. It seemed like an eternity since that had happened. She had begun to think it never would, that she was frozen, would be unable to accept a man’s touch ever again. But she could, and oh, it was good.
AJ slid his lips from her mouth to her neck, licking her, snaking a path to her collarbone and chest and leaving a trail of goose bumps. He put his mouth over her nipple, licking around the tightened bud with his tongue and finally capturing it, sucking it, each draw sending tingles of hot pleasure to her already scorching pu**y. And while he sucked and licked at her ni**les, he continued to f**k his fingers in and out of her pu**y in this slow, leisurely manner, as if he had all the time in the world to play with her body.
She knew his touch, his mouth. It might have been ten years and they might both be different now, but some things she never forgot—her body never forgot. All these years and despite other men in her life, she could never erase the way his hands and mouth felt on her, the way he could take her to—right there—with seemingly little effort, and then dangle her over the edge and make her wait.