Page 74 of Direct Action

His mouth descended, hit its mark even in the dark, and he kissed me.

Not hot and heavy.

Soft and sweet.

Infinitely sweet.

So softly his tongue was coaxing, teasing, unhurried. This kiss was nothing like the ones that had come before.

He gave me some of his weight. My hands came up, encountered warm skin, and went on a fabulous journey of discovery. I touched everywhere I could touch. Ryan kept the kiss gentle but added his hand to the side of my neck, his thumb slowly skimming up and down.

This lasted a long time. Long enough for my legs to get restless and the spark that he ignited when his lips touched mine to catch.

I needed more.

Ryan didn’t need me to verbalize this request. He rolled off me, his hands went to the hem of my tank, he yanked up, and whoosh, it was gone. Next his hands went to my shorts, and those too were gone, along with my undies. There was some shifting, then Ryan’s boxers went flying.

I thought from there, since we were both naked, he’d move things along.

Boy was I wrong.

Another gentle kiss, this time while his hand was tangled in my hair.

This again went on a long time. So long, I slid my hand down his back, reached as far as I could, and dug my nails into his firm ass cheek as a plea for more.

Ryan didn’t give me more. He nipped my lip before he broke the kiss.

“Not yet.”

“Honey—”

“Our first time’s gonna be special, and you’re gonna let me give that to you.”

It wasn’t our first time, but it was. It was the first time after our truce. After he’d declared us an us.

If Ryan wanted to go slow and give me something special, who was I to argue? Not that I could argue—I was too busy swooning.

Hearts- and flowers- and rainbow- and unicorn-type swooning.

“As you wish.”

“Now you’re getting it.”

Before I could respond with a snappy quip, his mouth was back on mine. That kiss didn’t last nearly as long as the ones before. He broke the kiss but not the contact as he dragged his lips down to my chin, over my throat, between by breasts, over and across my nipple.

My back arched, he moved to the other side, swiped his tongue over that nipple, then he was back on the move. Lips gliding, tongue tasting, teeth grazing, light nips here and there.

By the time Ryan made it to my belly button, I was panting.

When he skimmed his lips over the triangle of hair, I groaned.

I was wrong earlier—now I was at the top of that ride, suspended, anticipation coursing through me.

It was the most maddening, gentlest, most beautiful torture.

“Open for me, Chloe,” he ordered.

I did as he asked.