Nacho Figueras Presents by Jessica Whitman Read Free Book Online

buttons of his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin and the rough texture of his chest hair.
    He let out a hiss as her skin touched his, leaning into her hand for a moment and then pushing her back and flipping open the buttons on her jacket, easing it off her, leaving her bare from the waist up.
    She gasped as the cool night breeze slipped over her skin. His gaze met hers, his light brown eyes gone nearly black with desire.
    “Are you sure about this, Noni?” he said. His voice was rough and shaking. “Because if I touch you again, I don’t know if I can stop this time.”
    She smiled, throwing her head back, arching her chest, and thrusting herself toward him. “Please,” she said. “Please, please.”
    *  *  *
    Dimly, somewhere in the back of his mind, a warning bell sounded. Enzo knew he was stepping over the line, doing something he’d never be able to take back, and for the briefest instant, he hesitated.
    But then his eyes fell hungrily upon the sweet pink blush of desire that stained her cheeks and chest, and he heard the way her breath came in little stutters and gasps, and then her dark gaze met his with a liquid fire, and he knew that even a much stronger man would not be able to turn away from this moment.
    He cupped her jaw under his hand, bringing her head back toward him, and bent hungrily to her mouth, exploring the silken interior of her lips and tongue. He ran his hands down her bare back, thrilling at the strange, intense heat she emitted. She was blisteringly hot and smooth. She had once told him that she naturally ran a few degrees warmer than most people, a strange little medical anomaly. Suddenly, he needed to press himself against her—wanted to feel that feverish heat against his skin. He continued to kiss her as he loosened his tie, ripped off his jacket, and started to work at his shirt.
    She reached up and stilled his hands, brought them back to her, leaving them to cup her breasts as she slowly took over unbuttoning his shirt.
    She gasped as he slid his fingers over the tips of her breasts, filling his hands with their firm softness. Her own hands were fixed for a moment, the buttons on his shirt seemingly forgotten, her chest heaving, and then, swiftly, her hands trembling, she was pulling open his shirt and tossing it aside as she pressed herself to him, skin to unbelievably hot, soft skin.
    He groaned. “Oh God, what you do to me.”
    She sighed in response and pushed herself even closer.
    He ran his hands down the curve of her waist, working at the clasp of her trousers. She lifted herself so he could pull them off, kicked off her sandals.
    He paused a moment to take her in. She was lit by the moon and the dashboard lights, all muscle and curves, wearing nothing but a pair of translucent, buff-colored panties, a long gold necklace, and a pair of thick gold bracelets. Her hair was silvery in the moonlight, trailing over her shoulders and down her back. Her skin was cream and pink. Her small breasts were perfect teardrops, crowned by dainty, blush-colored nipples. Her eyes were gleaming and radiant, infinite in their beauty and filled with a searing desire.
    He took a deep breath, steadying himself against her overwhelming allure, trying not to be too greedy. “Should we go inside?” he asked.
    She shook her head, met his eyes. “No. I want you now,” she whispered.
    He felt his whole body throb in response. It was like every dream he’d ever had of her. Except reality was better in every way. Her skin was softer, her hair silkier, her hands seeming to trail sweet fire wherever she touched him. No fantasy had ever matched the desire that sparked between them in this moment.
    She groaned, deep and urgent, arching toward him.
    He bent and took a rosy nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking, teasing, until it was stiff under his tongue. He moved to her other breast, lavishing it with the same attention until she squirmed against him, desperate. He slid his hand down her stomach,