Page 39 of Melting for the Firefighter
The clasp opens.
The straps slide slowly down my arms. Cool air touches my bare breasts.
The urge to cover myself rises again.
I keep my arms at my sides.
Lance looks at me.
His hazel eyes darken.
“Jesus.”
The rough awe in his voice sends a shiver through me.
He cups my breasts in both hands.
His palms are warm and broad. His thumbs brush over my nipples, and they tighten beneath the touch.
I gasp.
“Sensitive?”
“Yes.”
His eyes stay on my face.
“Good.”
He lowers his mouth and draws one nipple between his lips.
Pleasure strikes hard enough to make my knees weaken.
My hands land on his shoulders.
He catches me around the waist, holding me steady while his tongue circles slowly.
He sucks gently at first, then firmer when my back arches and I press closer.
“Lance.”
He hums against me.
The vibration shoots through my body and settles low in my stomach.
His mouth moves to my other breast. One hand kneads the curve he left behind, his thumb continuing to tease the wet, aching peak.
I stop thinking about how I look.
I stop remembering every insult that taught me to hate the space my body takes up.
I only feel.
His mouth.
His hands.
The hard line of his body pressed against mine.
