Yes. Yes, he was good at this.

If their earlier kisses had made her hot, this kiss set her on fire. His lips and tongue were everywhere. His hands touching every part of her that he could reach.

His hands cupped her butt, tugging her firmly against his erection and rocking upward. She moaned, her hips moving of their own accord now as she ground against him.

It was good, but not enough. Not nearly enough. There were still layers separating them, and Penelope had never hated clothes as much as she did in that moment.

As though reading her mind, Cole’s hands slid up under her shirt, his palms touching the bare skin of her back for the first time, and that simple, skin-to-skin contact made a moan escape her lips.

He ran his hands up until they found her bra strap, unsnapping it with disconcerting ease before sliding his hands around to cover her breasts.

Penelope squeezed her eyes shut.

This would be the part where he changed his mind. The part where he realized that she had absolutely no curves. That her clothes didn’t lie—that she wasn’t secretly hiding a bombshell figure under all the layers.

“Ah, fuck, Pen,” he said, his fingers plucking her nipples in toying strokes. “You’re fucking perfect.”

Her eyes flew open, searching his face for signs of a lie.

But then he was tugging her shirt over her head, roughly pushing away the cups of her bra.

Before she could register embarrassment, his hand slid up her back, pulling her toward him as his mouth found her breast.

Her breath came out on a gasp as she arched into him. His tongue flicked at her nipple before he shifted to her other breast, and Penelope forgot all about being embarrassed, forgot all about the fact that her sexual experience paled in comparison to his.

None of that mattered. There was only Cole with his hot mouth and clever fingers.

She had to touch him.

Her hands roamed over his shoulders, his chest, then down to the hem of his shirt. He sat up and in one easy motion tugged the shirt off.

Penelope’s mouth went dry. He was perfect. Toned and golden and very, very male.

“You are so out of my league,” she said, scraping her nails over his bare chest.

His eyes slitted. “Not from where I’m sitting,” he said, his voice husky.

He sat up straighter, his hands cupping her face as he nipped her lips. “Let me take you to the bedroom.”

His hands slid down, his thumbs finding her nipples and sending any protests she might have uttered out the window.

She started to climb off him, but he scooped his hands beneath her butt, pulling her to him as he stood, easily holding her up.

“Nice trick, Sharpe.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “You like?”

In answer, she wound her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck and kissed him as he walked them into the bedroom.

Penelope had a moment of embarrassment that she hadn’t made the bed—she rarely bothered.

But Cole didn’t seem to mind when he deposited her among the mess of blankets and slowly lowered himself over her, his tongue running lazy circles over her throat until he inched down and sucked a nipple into his hot mouth.

Then her pants were gone—how had that happened?—and his lips were tickling the soft skin of her lower belly.

“I like the way you taste right here,” he said, licking at the sensitive skin just below her navel. “Sweet.”

Penelope propped herself up on her elbows, watching as his mouth skimmed over her skin, leaving a trail of fire everywhere he touched.

One of his hands drifted lower, over her thighs, before moving back up again, gently raking over the fabric of her underwear, and Penelope arched her back.

His eyebrows lifted, and he returned his hand to the tiny cotton triangle, tracing teasing circles over her.

“Cole. Don’t tease.”

In response, he tugged her underwear down her legs, parted her thighs, and dipped his fingers into her wetness.

She cried out.

“This what you want?” he growled, moving up so his mouth could nuzzle her neck.

Penelope could only nod. The slight roughness of his fingertips, the perfect speed in which he played with her was sweet, torturous heaven.

“So fucking responsive,” he said roughly. “I could torture you like this forever.”

“Don’t you dare.” She kissed his chin. “More.”

His eyes darkened and he nipped her lips. “I can do that. Just point me to the condoms.”

Penelope froze, and Cole froze in response, his hand going still. “Tell me you have condoms.”

She blushed. “I don’t exactly do this a lot. Aren’t you supposed to carry one around in your wallet?”

He groaned. “No, because I’m not a high school boy hoping to get lucky on prom night.”

Penelope swallowed. Well, crap. “Now what?”

His eyes skimmed over her body, turning speculative. “Now we get creative.”

“What—”

Cole slid down her body, his hands finding her knees and pushing her legs up, spreading her open.

Penelope barely had time to register his intention before he dropped his head and licked her. He glanced up, meeting her eyes briefly before his face dropped once more, his mouth opening over her as his tongue explored her folds.

Penelope cried out again, clenching the bedspread as he tasted her, first in teasing flicks and then in steady circles. She alternated between praying that it never ended and silently begging him to give her release.