Three Broken Promises
Three Broken Promises (One Week Girlfriend #3)(28)
Author: Monica Murphy
I part my lips at his command and he slides his tongue against mine, the kiss turning instantly hot. Deep. I cling to him as he steps closer to the counter, my knees bracketing his hips, his arms circling around my middle. He splays his big hands across my back, holding me firm as his mouth consumes mine.
This is exactly how I imagined it would be between us. Hot. All-consuming. Overwhelming. I hear muffled whimpers and realize I’m the one who’s making them. An ache has started between my legs while he skims his hands all over me, his mouth fused with mine. I want more. More touching, more kissing, more skin-on-skin contact. We’re trying to get close, closer and closer, and I slide my hand down the wide expanse of his back, slipping my fingers beneath his shirt so I can touch bare, smooth skin.
He tears his mouth away to break the kiss, panting against my cheek as if he needs the break. I know I do. My emotions, my everything, are a jumble in my head, though I wouldn’t have it any other way. “Tell me to stop right now,” he says, his voice harsh. He’s out of breath, looking so completely worked up I can’t help but be pleased knowing I’m the one who did that to him. “And I’ll walk away.”
If he walks away I’ll kill him . . .
God, look at me. The man toys with my emotions so bad he’s pushing me to violence. “I don’t want you to stop,” I say, shaking my head.
His hands shift so they’re in front of me, his fingers toying with the tiny pearl buttons of my shirt. “I’ve waited for this moment for what feels like forever.”
I swallow hard, overcome by his admission. God, so have I, I want to say, though it’s much harder for me to confess. That we wanted this all along, together, is enough to make me want to ask him why we wasted so much time when we could have been together.
But I don’t. Because I know that’s not what he really wants. To be with me on a permanent basis, in a real relationship. That’s just too much for him to bear.
“Please don’t stop,” I whisper because I’m still afraid he might. And I can’t have that. Not again.
“Good. Because once I have you naked, kissing you everywhere . . .” He pauses, his mouth pressed to my ear. “I won’t be able to stop.”
“I-I’m okay with that.” He’s reduced me to stuttering. My brain, my entire body, is on overload at having him so close. His hands on me, his fingers slowly undoing each button that runs down the center of my shirt. He’s undressing me, his fingers brushing against my stomach, my bra, the tops of my br**sts, until the shirt is completely unbuttoned and hanging open.
Pulling away slightly, he pushes the shirt from my shoulders so that it falls down my arms and puddles behind me on the counter. He studies me unabashedly, his eyes lit with dark, needy lust. “You’re so damn beautiful,” he says, his voice gruff.
His words make my cheeks flush with embarrassment but still I sit up straight, my br**sts thrusting out with the movement. The bra I’m wearing is made of white satin and trimmed with lace. I’m not very well endowed and it dawns on me that the bra also has some major padding, making me appear bigger than I really am. Guys kinda hate that. I had the misfortune to discover that a few years ago with a real jerk I’d been dating who’d been sorely disappointed when he took off my bra. So I try to avoid wearing this sort of bra when I’m on a date.
Damn it, I wish I’d worn something else.
“Pretty.” He traces his index finger across the tops of my br**sts, close to the delicate lace, and I clench my thighs together but it’s no use. I feel his touch as if he’s slowly stroking me between my legs, setting my entire body on fire. “We should take this off, though. I bet you’re even prettier without it on.”
I wait breathlessly as his fingers go to the center of my bra, undoing the front clasp with ease. The cups spring apart slightly, exposing me, and I press my lips together, overcome with worry that he’ll be disappointed. Or worse, call me out as a fake.
The women I’ve seen him flirt with are nothing like me. They’re curvy and blond, with huge br**sts and tiny waists, whereas I’m tall and thin, with slight curves and small boobs. The total opposite of every girl I’ve ever seen him show a glimmer of interest in, I can’t help but wonder why he’s attracted to me.
But then he touches me and I forget all about my worry, my insecurities. All I can do is feel.
Colin slides his big, warm hands beneath the cups of my bra and pushes them aside, his palms brushing against my hard ni**les. I hiss in a breath at the delicious contact, closing my eyes as I feel his weighted stare directed at my chest. His fingers tug my bra straps down my arms and I hold them out, feeling the bra fall away from me. I’m bared completely to him.
“Christ, you undo me.” Without warning he leans in, pressing his mouth to my br**sts, his lips drifting across my ni**les as they race across my skin. “You taste so good,” he whispers, just before he circles his tongue around first one nipple, then the other. I open my eyes to see his hands are as busy as his tongue. One of them skims over my knee, up my thigh, moving beneath my skirt. His fingertips brush the front of my damp panties and I suck in a harsh breath, spreading my legs as best I can to accommodate him, but the skirt’s hindering my movement.
“Here.” He pushes my skirt up my thighs and I lift up to help, until the fabric is bunched around my waist and I’m completely exposed. Colin rests his hands on the inside of my thighs, spreading me wider, his gaze zeroed in on my pale pink cotton panties. I lean back, my hands braced on the cold granite counter, and it chills my heated skin.
His smoldering stare makes me feel beautiful, desirable. Just the way he looks at me leaves me almost embarrassingly wet. I squirm when he strokes a single finger down the center of my panties, holding my breath when he pushes firmly against my most sensitive spot.
I press my lips together to stifle the moan that wants to spill and suddenly he’s right there, his face in mine. “I don’t want you to hold back,” he says, his voice firm. “I’ve waited this long; I’m dying to see you fall apart.”
He never looks away from me as he slips his fingers beneath the front of my panties, touching bare, hot, wet skin. I sink my teeth into my lower lip as I groan low in my throat, closing my eyes so I can lose myself to the sensation of his sure fingers touching me in all the right places. As if he knows exactly where I want him, how much pressure he should exert, how gentle he should be. He’s perfectly attuned to my body and I can already feel the wave hovering on the edge, just ready to wash over me and sweep me away.