Page 40 of Melting for the Firefighter
The way he touches me as though softness is something he has been starving for.
When he lifts his head, both nipples are wet and aching.
His gaze searches mine.
“Still want me?”
“More.”
His jaw flexes.
Lance lifts me onto the bed. He removes his shirt before following.
I have seen him in fitted T-shirts. I knew he was muscular.
I was unprepared for the reality of him.
His chest is broad and covered with dark hair. Defined muscle pulls across his stomach. An old tattoo curves over his left shoulder. Scars mark his arms and ribs, pale against warm skin.
He is rough and beautiful.
Strong enough to carry me through fire.
Gentle enough to ask before touching me.
“You’re staring,” he says.
“You stared first.”
“Still staring.”
I smile.
He kneels over me and kisses the smile from my mouth.
His hand travels down my side, moving slowly over my waist and stomach.
I tense when his palm covers the soft curve beneath my navel.
He notices.
His mouth leaves mine.
“This.”
He presses a kiss beside his hand.
“I like this.”
His lips move to my hip.
“These curves.”
Another kiss, lower this time.
“These thighs.”
He kisses the inside of one.
