I scooped her up into my arms. “I promise.”
“Good.” Her hands fell to my shoulders. “Now, kiss me.”
Another promise I could keep.
I dropped my lips to hers.
Fourteen
Eden
God. I loved his mouth.
His lips were soft against mine and yet demanding, coaxing me from touched, albeit mildly irritated, into heavy-limbed and flushed all over from desire by the time he’d set me down on the bed.
One moment to yank the comforter away.
Another and he was pressed down on top of me.
“Baby?” he murmured in my ear.
“Hmm?”
“You’re sure?”
My eyes peeled open. “About the love thing or the orgasm thing?”
Damon brushed his finger down my cheek, the slightly calloused tip catching lightly against my skin. “Either. Both.”
I did some tracing of my own, along the bristly edges of his jaw, down his nose, across his forehead, pushing several of the slightly overgrown brown locks out of the way.
“I’m sure about both.” I leaned up to nip his jaw. “I’m also sure that you’re way too handsome for your own good. You should have focused some of that Garcia Christmas Special magic in front of the camera.”
He chuckled, shifting slightly so his mouth could reach my throat. “As sacrilegious as it seems to be bringing her up at a moment like this, my mother would love to hear you say that. She’s always been on me to use my connections to get into movies.”
I laughed. “Well, now you can use my connections.”
A shudder. “God, no. The only connection of yours I want is finding a way into your pants.”
How was this my life? I was lying in bed with a man who wasn’t rushing to take off my clothes as quickly as possible, trying to find a way to his orgasm, to snag that moment of pure pleasure. But just as he wasn’t racing to that end, I also wasn’t hurrying. I’d spent so many of my sexual interactions since Tim searching to get lost in that moment of blissful oblivion, and disappointed when it only lasted a few seconds, when it didn’t mean anything more than getting lost for a few seconds—
Empty oblivion.
I wanted more than that now.
I wanted to live.
I wanted to feel.
I wanted . . . Damon in my pants.
He nipped at my throat. “What are you grinning about?”
“You getting in my pants.”
His head popped up. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I said. “But you’re sure taking your sweet time with it.”
A wicked smile, heat in his eyes, his head dropping back down, and his mouth went to work. He traced his lips across my jaw, let them drift up to my earlobe, suckling gently. He’d discovered that spot the first time we’d been together, and it never failed to make me shiver and moan, goose bumps erupting on my arms.
“Mmm,” I groaned, lacing my fingers into his hair.
He moved, shifting his weight, one hand sliding under the hem of my shirt, moving up along my stomach, between my breasts, up and down, up and down.
“Mouth,” I demanded.
Damon didn’t make me wait. His lips falling to mine, hand sliding out from beneath my shirt, and tugging at the buttons on its front, though not making much progress because it was one hand and he wasn’t a magician.
I reached down to help him, our hands tangling as we both struggled with what I was mentally terming the devil’s garment. Eventually, I batted him away, yanking open the line of them. I was so glad I’d taken matters into my own hands when his eyes darted up to meet mine for a moment, fire in their depths, before tracing slowly down the exposed skin.
“Now you,” I whispered.
One flash of movement, one flex of those powerful arms, and his shirt was yanked up and over his head, disappearing somewhere over the edge of the bed.
“I—”
My chance for giving orders was over.
Damon’s mouth dropped to mine for a long, hot kiss, then moved, over my cheek, down my throat, dancing over both collarbones, nudging my bra straps out of the way. His warm hand slipped beneath my back, flicked open the clasp and peeled the lace and cotton garment away, tossing it in the direction of his shirt.
“God, you have the most beautiful set of tits I’ve ever seen,” he said, dropping his head and rubbing the bristles on his jaw lightly on the other side.
Normally, I hated the word tits, but there was something about the gruff way he said it or maybe it was the roughness of his stubble raising goose bumps not on my arms, my nipples pebbling into tight, aching buds that made me not mind the word so much.
He sucked one of my nipples into his mouth, pinching the other lightly between his thumb and forefinger, making my back arch, my hips cant up in need.
And slow disappeared.
He switched sides and pleasure snaked down my spine, my thighs clenching together, moisture pooling between them. I gripped his head, torn between keeping his mouth there and dragging it back up to meet mine again.
In the end I did neither.
Because Damon was moving down my body, tongue leaving heated trails of moisture, teeth punctuating with little bites that made me jump and groan and grip his hair tighter.
Until my hands were extracted from his locks, and his went to work on the button of my slacks, sliding my zipper down, coaxing me to lift my hips so he could tug them down and off my legs.
They went the wayside, trailed quickly by my underwear and then I was naked, Damon shirtless as he crouched between my thighs.
“You, too,” I repeated.
He grinned, that wicked one again that seemed to melt my bones from the inside out, but then he stood, fingers working at the button of his jeans for a heartbeat before they, too, hit the floor.
His boxer briefs stayed on for the moment, though he did reach for the pocket of
