The Look of Love Page 37


“Chase,” she moaned when he was right there and instead of giving her what she needed, he turned his attention to her other breast.

“Mmm?”

He didn’t look up from the torturous circles he was making on her flesh. Her arms trembled from the way she was holding them, but she didn’t lower them.

“Please,” she begged, “I need—” She bit her lip on another moan as he came almost to the tip, then backed away and ran his finger down in the hollow between her br**sts.

He paused his hand there, right in the center of her chest, where her heart was beating so hard for him, then leaned forward before she could get her brain to kick into gear, and kissed her softly.

Thoroughly.

Possessively.

The hairs on his chest teased her br**sts, driving her even crazier than she already was.

And then, before she could shift or blink or beg, he lowered his head and took one into his mouth. She needed to lower her arms so that she could steady herself by holding on to him, so that she could grip the back of his head and hold him there—oh yes, right there!—while he gave her the pleasure she’d been craving.

Everything narrowed down onto the lash of his tongue upon her, the coiling heat inside her belly, his warm breath against her chest. Chloe lost all track of time as he laved her br**sts, as he loved every inch of her torso—the peaks, the curves, the hollows, the shadowy undersides, the spaces between her ribs. And then he was moving lower still, dropping to his knees, holding her waist with his large, strong hands, holding her there for him to devour.

His tongue and lips and teeth held no mercy as he destroyed her soul, knocking down her defenses one inch of skin at a time.

And then he was nudging her legs open wider, before covering her with his mouth, and she was holding onto him for dear life, knowing she’d never live through this pleasure, that it was too big, too all-encompassing, far too sweet to be real.

To be hers.

She thought she heard the words, “You taste like heaven,” and then his tongue was going deeper, replacing his fingers inside of her, sending her rocketing off into another impossible orgasm.

Her legs began to crumple but he was already there, holding her steady.

Not letting her fall.

Later she would let herself marvel at the fact that she’d been standing stark naked at a public winery with a man’s face between her legs, crying out so loud that anyone on the property could surely hear. And had to know exactly what was going on.

But now, tonight, how could she possibly care about any of that? Not when all that mattered was pleasure.

No. That wasn’t what mattered. Not really.

It was Chase.

He was what mattered.

The thought nailed her straight in the center of her heart just as he shifted, standing up. His hands were still on her hips when he kissed her. She tasted herself on his lips, but more than that, she tasted him. Tasted his hunger. Tasted his need.

Tasted just how much he cared about her.

Loved her.

She wanted to pull away from that truth, from him, from her past, from her own fear, but even if he hadn’t chosen that moment to say, “Turn around for me, lovely girl,” even if his hands hadn’t been helping her do just that, she wouldn’t have had a chance in hell of leaving him just then.

He had her, body and soul.

And not just because of the orgasms.

Moments later, she was facing the moonlit vineyard and he was placing her hands on the rails. “Hold on,” he said softly, seductively. “And don’t let go.”

She wanted to think he was talking about the rail, but she knew what he really meant.

He wanted her to trust him. He wanted her to believe that his love could be enough to change her life.

Tears rushed her even as her arousal spiked higher than ever before at nothing more than the sound of Chase ripping open the condom wrapper.

“You’re even more lovely like this than I knew you would be.”

She turned her head, a light breeze taking her hair with it as she looked at him over her shoulder. “Chase.”

He positioned himself at her entrance, so hot and hard she could hardly believe it. “I love you, Chloe.”

She held her breath, waiting for the moment when he drove into her, when he stretched open not just her body, but her heart, too.

But he remained still, his eyes on hers.

“Always.”

She gasped at the word, gasped again as he began to enter her.

“Forever.”

Her head fell forward, hung down as she gripped the rails and took what he was giving her, as she pushed back against him just as hard. His hands moved from her hips up over her waist as he took her, and soon, his palms were full of her aroused flesh.

Never. She’d never done anything this decadent. This depraved. This delicious.

This beautiful.

She’d made this plan to have sex outside to make sure things stayed purely physical. Entirely on the surface.

It should have been impossible for them to deepen their connection while having sex standing up, out on a balcony. It should have been inconceivable that she would feel even closer to him while he had her bent over the rail with her br**sts in his hands while he was thrusting hard, deep, into her.

If ever there was an act that should be just sex, it was this, a man and woman who had been perfect strangers just days ago, rutting like animals.

And yet...

Somehow it was beautiful. So beautiful that her eyes were damp.

And her heart was fuller than it had ever been.

In perfect unison, he pinched the tip of one breast at the same moment he slid the fingers of his other hand between her legs.

And she shattered.

* * *

Chase lifted Chloe into his arms and carried her back inside the bedroom. Her eyes were closed and as she blinked to try to open them, he pressed a kiss on one eyelid.

“Shhh.”

A kiss for the other.

“Time for bed.”

She snuggled in tighter to him, his exhausted sex kitten.

Again and again, she amazed him.

Humbled him.

Her playfulness, her willingness to take a risk despite her past...he wasn’t sure she realized that she was showing him all those things out on the balcony.

He knew she’d wanted to prove to him that she could play in the “just sex” big leagues. Instead, she’d trusted him—trusted herself—with something different. Daring.

Sex in the bathtub had been mind-blowing.

Sex on the balcony, watching her grip the rails so hard her knuckles turned white, watching as she gave up control and bucked against his hips to drive him deeper inside...there wasn’t a word for what that had done to him.

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