Perfect Partners(27)
Author: Carly Phillips

He did, cupping her breast while brushing one sensitive nipple with his thumb until it hardened into a tight peak. All the while, he continued his gentle assault on her mouth, tasting her moist heat. When she moaned softly, he took the sound deep inside of him, into a place she’d already reached.

He wanted to feel her gentle hands, wanted her to learn the feel of him as he had her. What he needed, he realized, was to know she wanted him, too. The blood rushing through him, demanding an immediate response, attested to his desire.

Through the haze of need, he realized she hadn’t done more than run her hands along his bare back. He lifted his head and drew a deep breath.

She gazed at him through passion-filled eyes. Though he liked what he saw, he wondered why she held back. “Touch me,” he whispered.

Her eyes, which seemed heavy only seconds before, opened wide. He traced her moist lips with one finger. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again.

“What is it?” With his voice and movements, he attempted to strengthen the trust he had seen in her eyes.

“I don’t know… I mean…” Her voice trailed off, her cheeks tinged pink in embarrassment.

She was wonderfully responsive, but hadn’t initiated any physical contact. He suspected her marriage had taught her little about sex and even less about making love. Though he knew plenty about the act itself, he might know as little as Chelsie about the emotions involved. Until now, he hadn’t cared enough to learn.

He reached for her hand and held on tight. “You don’t have to know anything except what feels right for you.”

“Teach me.” Her words came out a combination of a plea and a dare. She probably didn’t realize they’d be charting new territory together.

“Just feel,” he whispered. With a gentle brush of his fingertips, he closed her eyelids. Long lashes fluttered against her cheeks.

“I want to know if your skin feels like silk.” He let his fingers trail along her inner thigh, over the softness of her skin. Her muscles quivered enticingly beneath his touch, making his slow exploration even more difficult to maintain.

“I want to know if you taste sweet.” He dipped his head and caught one nipple in his mouth. His tongue swirled around twice, before he tugged gently with his teeth. She whimpered with undisguised need.

“So,” she said in a husky voice, “if I want to know exactly how much you want me, all I have to do…” Her seductive voice trailed off at the same moment her hand cupped him through his briefs.

He exhaled a slow groan, feeling desire swell and grow beneath her fingertips. “I should have known you’d be a quick student,” he said on a ragged breath.

She chuckled, her eyes alight with laughter and a sense of liberation and satisfaction he hadn’t seen there before.

“Number one in my graduating class.” As she spoke, her expression sobered, causing the light to dim. “But if this isn’t what you bargained for, it’s not too late to back out.”

Her hand lay on his hard length, his body throbbed with unsatisfied need, yet she still offered him a way out. “What the hell was it like for you?” he asked, harsher than he intended.

“Short, quick, and to the point.” Chelsie closed her eyes, her humiliation complete. Not quite, she reminded herself. Sex was another area in which she never quite managed to satisfy her husband. What she felt for Griff surpassed anything in previous experience, which would make disappointing him so much harder to bear.

“Never again,” he murmured softy, brushing his lips with hers. As if keeping his promise, he seduced her with his mouth, his tongue darting in and out, feasting on her mouth with gentle but insistent determination.

His hands worked similar magic, seemingly everywhere at once. She didn’t know which part of her body trembled. Her skin burned, yet she craved more of his touch. More of Griff.

She allowed him to carry her away, to a place where sensation ruled and rational thoughts were not permitted to intrude. This time, she participated, refusing to allow old insecurities and inhibitions to matter. After spending the night wrapped in his arms, separated only by a thin layer of cotton, Chelsie couldn’t stand the wait.

She surprised him by removing his briefs herself, then raised her arms and allowed him to slowly peel off her shirt. He paused to taste every inch of exposed skin, lingering over extra-sensitive areas until she begged him to hurry. He then removed her lace panties with the same exquisite care, tantalizing and teasing until she cried out his name and pulled him up for a long, hot kiss.

Griff settled himself between her thighs, the tip of his erection pressed against her in a definite promise of more to come. The emotional intimacy they’d shared surpassed the physical, stunning her, considering they hadn’t yet made love. And though the notion frightened her, she wanted him too much to back out now.

“Chelsie?”

He raised himself up on his elbows, taking his upper body weight off her. Though she missed the feel of his warmth pressing against her br**sts, her lower body was on fire. He pulsed against her, making her ache with need.

“Hmm?” she asked, barely capable of a coherent word, let alone a coherent thought.

“Protection. It’s in the drawer.”

“Don’t need it,” she murmured, out of her mind with wanting him, needing him inside her.

An instant later, he thrust into her, realizing her silent plea. For Chelsie, this might as well have been her first time. He filled more than a simple need. He filled her heart. She closed her eyes against the truth, but the tears she held back mocked her effort.

Before long, the feel of him gliding inside her had her writhing with the need for more. And then sensation took over, obliterating all thought except how right he felt inside her.

Griff felt her quiver around him, felt her climb towards completion. He opened his eyes to watch her glistening face as she spiraled into a world that only he could share.

And he did, knowing the entire time that life after Chelsie would be drastically different than the life he had known before. His climax came with hers, unbelievably shattering in intensity. Unbelievably right.

He held her in his arms afterwards and felt her trembling. He remained silent. Words seemed inadequate. She’d been married and divorced; he’d been with his own share of women, a fiancée included. So why did he feel as if this time were the first? And why did that seem so damned important?

Because first times could never be repeated. And first loves never died. So now what?