She was
aware of his body in a delicious, frightening way. Her hands
were still wrapped around his waist; her body still rested
against his broad back. She could feel each breath he took
and the beating of his heart. Though she ached to see his
beautiful face, she dared not move, dared not disturb this
moment.
His hand
covered hers. With each stroke of his finger on her skin,
she felt the heat climb and climb.
He got
off the bike and reached for the helmet’s clasp under her
chin. With his help, she removed the helmet and set it down.
When she
made a move to tussle her hair--it must have been in some
state by now--he shook his head.
“Don’t
worry. You’re beautiful.”
She tried
to fix her hair anyway, hiding her self-conscious smile with
a drop of her chin.
Staring
down, trying to regain her balance, she wondered if he could
see her heart crashing into her rib cage. Could he smell her
need? Sense the way her body was changing the closer he
moved toward her? Did he know how wet she was by the time
his hip brushed her thigh?
“Candy,”
he said.
“Yes?”
When she
lifted her head, he took her chin into his hand and sunk his
mouth onto hers.
All
thought fled. Sound disappeared. The night fell away. His
kiss toppled and tossed her and she didn’t care if she ever
stood straight or walked again.
As his
hand moved to the back of her neck, she ran her hands up his
arms to his shoulders and the back of his smooth neck. She
didn’t know when it happened, but between her reaching for
him, aching for him, she was on her feet, her hands running
under his shirt, over his stomach and over his hard chest.
When her fingers brushed his nipple, he moaned at the back
of his throat and kissed her harder.
He pushed
his leg between her legs and she answered, oh, yes, she did,
by lowering herself onto the hard muscle of his thigh. When
she did, he rocked to her roll, his breath coming hard. Then
he was pulling away leaving her shaking with desire.
Oh, God, come
back.
