Page 82 of Puppy Love

He decided, right then and there, to do just that—especially once Sophie took her time unzipping her little black ankle boots and tossing them to the floor.

“I hope you aren’t too attached to these panties,” he warned.

“Well, actually, I—”

The rest of her sentence was lost in her squeal of delight as he pulled her forward using both his hands and his teeth—his hands cupping the sweet curves of her ass, his teeth caught on the upper band of the lace panties.

Then he tugged. Hard.

The sound of his teeth ripping through delicate fabric was oddly satisfying, especially when it was followed by Sophie’s low moan. Her hands dropped to his head, those perfect fingernails scraping against his scalp as she threaded her fingers through the strands. A tingling sensation worked down his spine, not stopping until the rest of his body quivered alongside it.

“This is Chantilly lace, I’ll have you know,” she said as he managed a particularly good tear. One more tug, and he’d have reached the gusset—not to mention the hot apex of her thighs. “From La Perla.”

“I don’t know what any of those words mean, and I sure as hell don’t care right now.”

Sophie laughed and tightened her hold on his hair. “You silver-tongued devil, you.”

He tugged one last time. “You have no idea.”

He made quick work of the tattered remnants of her panties, sliding them down her naked thighs and tossing them to the ground below. Sophie was a glory to behold from any angle, but there was something about this one that set him over the edge. Her legs were long and impossibly smooth. They met in a perfect V of dark curls, already damp with desire, which was where he focused his attention now.

His tongue might not be silver tipped when it came to talking about his feelings, but he didn’t need it to be. Not when he was about to taste her.

Running his hands up either side of her right leg, he began his siege there. A soft kiss on the skin above her knee elicited a gasp—a sound that intensified as he worked his way up, pressing tongue and teeth against the suppleness of her upper thigh. She showed a tendency to wriggle, a thing he had to combat by holding her more firmly in place and parting her legs to give himself better access.

“Cold,” she said with a gasp as he opened her legs and held her there, blowing a long, slow breath against her damp heat. “I can feel everything when you do that.”

Yes.She needed to feel everything—not just in a physical sense, but in every other possible meaning of the word.Feel me on my knees before you. Feel me tasting every part of you. Feel me begging you to extend this moment into infinity.

“Good,” he said and lifted her leg even more. With one swift movement, he had her thigh hitched over his shoulder. Most of her weight shifted over to him, a feeling he gloried in much more than he probably should have. “Now hold still, will you? I want to do this right.”

“You can’t possibly hold me—” she began, but hecouldand hedid.

With one hand pressed flat against her bare belly, he anchored her in place. He also anchored himself to her with a kiss pressed at the juncture of her thighs. One taste, one lick, one swirl of his tongue against her clit, and all arguments came to an end.

She whimpered and arched her back, causing her legs to open wider and allow him better access to the sweet heat of her.

“Oh, dear,” she moaned as his kisses intensified, his tongue seeking purchase everywhere it landed. “Harrison, I think I changed my mind about that ravishing thing. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

He paused long enough to give her a moment to back out, a moment to give up on him, but she didn’t. She only kept clinging to his hair like a woman about to fall off a precipice, her eyes glazed with desire and something more.

“You took me at my worst, Sophie,” he said, though he didn’t know how much of it she heard. “You can take anything.”

Her moans gave way to whimpers, which soon transformed to an increasingly low humming sound as she neared orgasm. That was the part of her he wanted to taste most, so he pressed one last kiss against her clit, holding the pressure there until she came. She shook and cried out, her grip on his hair so strong he couldn’t have pulled away even if he wanted to.

He didn’t want to though. He wanted to stay there, on his knees before this woman, buried in the sweet, glorious heat of her forever.

Forever.

That word rattled him almost as much as Sophie’s body quivering against his lips. He wanted her with him for everything—not just while puppy training lasted, and not for a few hot weeks while his life settled back into a semblance of normal.

He didn’t just like Sophie Vasquez.

He fucking loved her.

That thought shook him even more than the feel of her orgasm crashing tight and hot against his lips. It was the worst possible moment for such a life-altering realization. He should have been reveling in her body, tossing her to the mattress and making love to her until neither of them could stand anymore.

Not clutching her legs like he’d never touch her again. Not feeling—for some inexplicable reason—like all he wanted to do was cry.