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“How about if I do this?” He pressed his lips against hers for the shortest time.
“Daniel.” His name came out as a soft moan.
“Mmm?”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
Their kiss struck fever pitch the instant their lips met.
Heat seared through her as she opened her mouth, and he plunged his tongue inside. It tangled with hers, tasting, exploring, driving her half-crazy with need.
If anticipation had drowned her logic, his kiss immobilized her mind. Reality faded. For the longest time, she could only feel. Instinct and Daniel became her two guides, and she blindly followed where they took her, heedless of the outcome.
His mouth was hot and wet and filled her with delectable sensations. A hint of scotch lingered on his tongue, and she drank in the delicious taste.
He tightened his fingers at the back of her neck as his mouth ravaged hers. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and was vaguely aware of his jacket dropping to the ground. Unable to resist, she stood on tiptoes and held her body flush to his.
As her pelvis made contact with his, he gasped and backed her against the wall, pressing himself so close she felt every miniscule move he made, every erratic breath he took.
And every inch of his erection pushing against her belly.
“More…” She yanked his shirt out of his pants, the impulse to touch his bare flesh dictating her every move.
He loosened his hold so her hands could creep under the soft cotton, up his sides and around to his chest. Her hands imbibed the warmth of his skin as she ran them over his muscular torso. His lean power awed her, lending further credence to his undeniable masculinity. Beneath his ribs, his heart pounded, its staccato rhythm matching her racing pulse.
Sweet Lord, he felt good. She grazed her fingers over his nipples, and he jerked.
“Morgan…”
She answered by grinding her hips against him, whimpering as her clit grazed his erection. The clothing between them did little to dampen the erotic feel of his hard cock.
Moisture gathered between her legs, and she groaned into his mouth. What little cognizance she had of the world around her narrowed until it vanished altogether. The only thing she was aware of was Daniel. Daniel and the way he touched her and made her feel.
His hand found her swollen breast and closed over it, massaging until her breath came in short spurts. Her chest heaved as longing grew and blossomed, spreading its sensuous poison through her veins. When he took her aching nipple between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed gently, the sensation spiraled downward, vibrating through her stomach and lower. She stopped breathing, convinced she’d faint from pleasure.
Daniel’s mouth kept her firmly grounded. His kiss set her blood on fire. She moaned. She kissed. She ached.
With one arm wrapped around her shoulders—keeping her mouth fastened to his—he ran his hand down the length of her skirt. Then slipped it underneath.
Amy was sure her heart would stop. For endless seconds, he rested his fingers on her knee. The anticipation of what might follow left her shaking helplessly. She was on fire, burning with expectation.
Somewhere in the far recesses of her mind, a tiny voice cautioned her that whatever action she took now would have serious, long-term repercussions.
Such was the power of her voracious need for him, she paid the warning no heed.
Touch me.Her yell was silent. She was powerless to find expression for her thoughts.
As if responding to her unspoken command, he dragged his fingertips up her inner leg, over her thigh-high stockings, and onto bare flesh. Each inch of skin he brushed over was so sensitized his touch reverberated through her entire body. She turned to liquid in his arms.
“Danny.” With a guttural moan, she shifted, inviting his hand to complete its journey.
An inch away from his target, he stilled and muttered a thick curse. A second later, his finger traced her lacy G-string, his touch as light as a feather and as hot as burning coal.
She gasped at the contact and bit his neck. Tremors shook through her. She shifted again, needing to feel his fingers on her naked flesh, to experience the pleasure and relief his hand could bring.
He nudged the wisp of lace aside and ran his finger through her slick folds. Her head fell back, her eyes shut, her mouth incapable of speech. Even the tiny voice in the back of her mind was silenced by his strokes.
“Christ, you’re wet.”