The Unidentified Redhead (Redhead #1)(57)
Author: Alice Clayton

And I was in love with him. There was no getting around it now. This boy, this man, had taken my heart, wrapped it up in his arms, and carried it with him. I wanted desperately to tell him, to let him know how I felt about him.

He finally spoke, breaking the nervous silence between us.

“I need … I need to touch my Grace,” he stated simply, and crossed to me.

As he closed the distance between us, even though it was only a few feet, I grew more nervous. For all my posturing and joking, I was nervous, here … now.

He stopped in front of me, reaching out with one hand to gently stroke my hair back from my face.

“Grace … you’re beautiful,” he whispered to me, and I felt myself relax as I leaned into his hand, pressing my cheek into his palm. His other hand cupped my other cheek, and he brought his face to mine. Gently he kissed my forehead, my eyelids, my nose, my blushing cheeks and, finally, he brought his lips to my own.

“Your lips belong to me,” he whispered.

He kissed me slowly and tenderly, his lips barely brushing mine. His kiss was like our first kiss on the beach, hesitant but deliberate. I breathed in his sweet scent, remembering the first time I was aware of it. Sun, chocolate, vanilla, pipe tobacco, chimney smoke, and that pure Hamilton that underlined it all.

I felt my body responding to him, and my nervousness fell away. My hands came up to his face, mimicking his own. I opened my eyes and found him staring at me in wonder. I pulled away slightly so I could see him, and then said, “Kiss me again, please.”

He smiled and obliged. My hands fell down and caught around his waist, pulling him tighter into me. His kiss deepened and his tongue pressed against my lower lip. I opened my mouth and felt him enter me. I moaned a little at the feel of his tongue against mine, and his hands clutched at my face, then began to lose themselves in my hair.

My hands crept around to the front of him and began to work on his shirt, unbuttoning it slowly. His hands slid down as we continued to kiss, my silk catching on his rough fingertips, calloused by his guitar. I managed to work

his buttons open and pulled his shirt off him. He was reluctant to remove his hands from me, so his shirt hung down from him in back while my hands ran the length of his torso.

The smattering of strawberry blond-colored hair tickled my nose as I pressed myself closer to him, snuggling into his chest. I reveled in the feel of my skin on his, warm and comforting. His hands roamed endlessly across my arms, my neck, my back, my sides, finally settling on my shoulders as he carefully began to push the straps of my nightgown aside. It dropped slightly, dipping low. He smiled again as his eyes followed the curve of my skin, then returned to mine, the green beginning to deepen.

His eyes belonged to me.

As my nightgown lowered, one breast was exposed. He gazed with something like awe at the little freckle that was perched just above—his “landmark” freckle, he called it. He smiled, and his hands ghosted across me. I felt my skin pebble beneath his fingertips, and I heard his low intake of breath as he touched me.

I could feel him responding to my own arousal, and he increased the pressure on my br**sts. I moaned my approval, and he lowered his head to me, stopping to kiss my collarbone and the little hollow at the base of my neck. He swept kisses down my chest, trailing a path toward my exposed breast. I giggled a little at the sensation, but my hands came up to his hair, running my nails up and down, encouraging him.

He captured my nipple in his mouth and I could feel it rise beneath his touch, while his hand kneaded my other breast. I moaned thickly, shifting my legs a bit at my own arousal. He bit down then, lightly, and the feel of it was beginning to drive me a little mad. My gasp of pleasure only increased the fever that was building, but he began to slow things down.

He pulled away from me, to my dismay. His face was a little playful.

“Where do you think you’re going, George?” I asked, my voice sounding husky and low.

“Oh, I love it when you call me George,” he murmured, returning to my skin, his voice thick and seductive.

His voice belonged to me.

He slipped an arm around my waist and scooped me up, the other arm hooking underneath my knees, cradling me to him. He walked us toward the bedroom, and I kissed his neck while we moved across the room. His eyes burned into mine as we made our way toward the bed.

“This is like a Danielle Steel novel,” I teased, and he rolled his eyes at me.

“Would you just let me do this my way, please?” he replied, blowing a raspberry on my neck.

I smiled bashfully at him as I saw that he had turned down the covers for us already, and then I noticed there were chocolates on the pillows.

“Candy!” I exclaimed, before I could help myself.

He chuckled. “You want to eat candy now, love?” he asked, nuzzling at my ear.

“No, not just now … but it’s nice to know that it’s here … for after.” I smiled, glad that he was still holding me so tightly.

“Yes, for after,” he replied, setting me gently on the bed. He leaned over me, kissing me again, more deeply now. Like an undercurrent, the passion between us was now becoming more pronounced. There was a need, a hunger that would quickly consume us.

I pushed his shirt back. and it finally fell off his frame as I began to work at his zipper. He groaned when I inadvertently brushed against him, and I felt his excitement underneath my hands. I looked back up at him and was astounded by the lust in his eyes, the green growing darker by the second. I pushed his pants down and they fell to the floor.

He was bare beneath.

I giggled in surprise and then licked my lips instinctively. “Nice,” I praised.

He grinned in return. “I believe you forgot something too, Crazy,” he answered devilishly, placing a hand between my legs and touching me through the fabric of my nightgown. I hissed as he searched for my absent panties. “I thought so … ” He chuckled, pressing harder on my already swollen sex.

I lay back, propped up on my elbows, admiring the view of my Jack, naked between my legs. It was a sight I would never tire of—the lean lines of his torso, the muscled forearms, the tapered fingers, the lovely blond hair that led my eyes down to the heaven that was him.

With achingly slow precision, he slipped the straps further down my arms and removed the silk gown from me. I lay before him, naked and wanting.

He breathed in heavily, almost gasping, and said, “Beautiful.” His tongue crept out, licking his lower lip in anticipation.

His tongue belonged to me.