her voice barely shook as she told him, “If I recall correctly, you were just about to rip my clothes off.”
“Damn, I’m brilliant,” he drawled huskily, reaching out and grabbing her around the waist.
Another soft laugh fell past her lips as she crashed against his muscular chest. “You don’t have to convince me of that.”
“But I do have to have you.” He placed one big hand on her hip, the other curving around the side of her throat, holding her in place as he claimed her mouth in a scalding kiss that damn near melted her bones, it was so freaking hot.
“I need you naked,” he muttered into her mouth, flicking his tongue across her teeth. “I’m tired of trying to imagine what you look like under all those little cock-teasing outfits you torment me with day after day at work. I want to learn every inch of your bare body. Now , Sophie.”
“You, too,” she gasped, spreading her hands over his hard shoulders. She stroked across the powerful musculature, down to his strong arms, squeezing the hard weight of his biceps. She wanted to grab the front sides of his shirt and rip it until buttons were pinging all over the floor, but he pulled away before she could try out the movie-inspired move.
With wide eyes, Sophie watched Chris drop down on his knees in front of her. Keeping his head lowered, he slipped her ballet flats off her feet and tossed them aside. Then his head lifted a little and he roughly attacked the slim buttons at the side of her skirt, his big hands shaking a bit with what felt like need, for her , and it was the most wonderful feeling in the world.
Seconds later, her skirt joined her shoes, and Chris’s big hands were reaching up under the hem of her blush-colored blouse and snagging the top of her tights, wrenching them down and off. Suddenly, she was standing in front of him wearing nothing more than her bra, fitted blouse and tiny scrap of panties that had a telling wet spot on the front.
“Oh, Christ,” he groaned, gripping her hips and shoving his face against her crotch, his harsh exhalations fanning against the wet satin. Heart pounding so hard it hurt, Sophie pushed her fingers into his thick hair, her hands and legs trembling as he pulled in a deep, ragged breath. The sexy sound rumbling up from his chest told her how much he liked her scent, the way his hands squeezed her hips making her feel feminine and soft. A quick flick of his tongue across the damp satin, followed by a primitive growl, and then he was moving back to his feet, his expression tight with need as he stared down at her.
His lips parted, some kind of shadow briefly moving across his piercing gaze, and for an awful moment, Sophie thought he was going to tell her something...something crushing. But he ended up kissing her instead, and by the time he pulled back and started attacking the buttons on his white dress shirt, she was too focused on watching him bare that incredible body to be worried about that “off” look he’d given her. When he pulled the shirt off those broad shoulders and dropped it on the floor, she couldn’t keep from reaching out and running her fingertips over the elaborate ink scrolled over both of his arms and shoulders, the dark designs mixed with brilliant hues of color. She’d noticed the intricate tattoos whenever he’d come into work in his running clothes or rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirts, and Sophie thought they were not only sexy, but gorgeous, as well.
“You like the ink?” he asked, sounding surprised by the revelation.
She lifted her shy gaze to his smoldering one. “Not always. I mean, not on everyone who has them. But I think your tattoos are beautiful.”
He gave her one of those sexy grins that never failed to make her hot, his hands busy pulling the pins out of her hair as he told her, “Mom gave me the jewelry, and my dad gave me the ink. He owns a parlor in Encinitas, and my mom’s gallery is right next door. She doesn’t surf, but she’s
Benjamin Blech, Roy Doliner