Page 62 of Something Like Shelter

“Thanks,” he said, his voice a sexy rumble that was doing all sorts of things to my insides.

“Yeah. I, um, I didn’t want you to get too cool. I once went to a house party where people were trying to use random towels and old newspapers as blankets. I never want to be the ‘guests shivering all night’ kind of host.”

I needed to shut up.

“No worries. You’ve been very accommodating,” he said, his hand lifting.

Everything in me froze—my breath, my pulse, my thoughts.

His fingers tucked my hair behind my ear.

It was a barely-there touch. But try telling my body that.

Sensation came running back. My pulse raced. My heart hammered. Everything was pulse and ache and a need so deep it seemed to imbed in my spine.

My gaze was transfixed by his and I could see him recognize the heat in my eyes as his own warmed to match.

Maybe that’s what had my own hand lifting, sliding up the wrist that he’d rested on the side of my neck. Over his forearm. Then settling on his shoulder as my gaze slipped to his lips, then back up again.

I was close enough to feel the way his chest expanded as he sucked in a greedy breath. Close enough to see the decision get made just a second before his head ducked and his mouth found mine.

His lips slanted over mine, slow and sure, drawing me under as my arm went around the back of his neck and my chest pressed to his.

That cracked what was left of his control.

His one hand slipped around the back of my neck, his grip firm, possessive, as his other arm wrapped around my lower back, holding me tightly against him as the kiss deepened.

A soft sound escaped me and his tongue swept inside to find mine, teasing, toying, stoking the flames of the desire that threatened to burn me from the inside out.

His hands were moving then, sliding up and down my back, then sinking into my ass, dragging me more firmly against him until I felt the proof of his desire pressing against my stomach.

A moan escaped me as the ache inside grew sharper, almost painful.

Owen moved then, bringing me with him as he turned, and lowered down onto the foot of the bed, pulling me to straddle him.

Hands still on my butt, he pulled me down until his hardness was against the juncture of my thighs, making a moan move up my throat and burst out. Hearing it, Owen’s hands flexed, and a rumble moved through him, vibrating into me.

The kiss tipped harder, hungrier.

Owen’s hands rocked my hips, grinding me against him. Once. Twice.

I didn’t need any more encouragement than that. I let my desire guide me, rocking harder and faster against him, my little whimpers growing into loud moans his lips only partially muffled.

His hands started to move then, sliding over the tops of my thighs, my hips, over my ribs.

I grabbed his wrists as he went to close over my breasts, guiding them back downward instead. There was no way to say, “That is not an area that is going to feel sexy again for a while” in the moment, but luckily for me, Owen was able to intuit the gesture and let his hands roam other places instead.

They slipped up under the skirt of my nightgown, teasing up my thighs, then tracing along the edge of my panties.

His lips ripped from mine, pressing into my neck instead, making little sparks of desire shoot across my skin.

Without his lips on mine, my moans grew louder in the quiet room, filling all the empty space as the friction drove me closer and closer to the edge.

But before I could topple over, Owen’s body shifted suddenly, dropping me flat on my back as his hands grabbed my panties and started to drag them down my legs.

Finished, he grabbed my knees, spreading me wide, then moving down between my thighs.

A current shot up my spine as I felt his tongue sliding up my cleft and circling my clit.