From Exes To Expecting

“I’ll do that.” She frantically shoved the material off his shoulders. It landed on the hardwood with a swoosh. “Hurry.”

She flicked another one of her buttons open.

His body twitched in agreement with her command for speed. No, slow down. “Why so urgent?”

“To make sure we get into town on time.”

“They think we’re speechwriting. If we’re late, they won’t question us.” His fingers shook as he managed to undo the rest of the delicate placket. One side of her robe fell to the side, baring a hint of supple skin, but another layer of thin material hid the rest of her. Lifting her and settling her on the counter, he groaned. “This robe is keeping me from seeing you, sweetheart. I think you did this on purpose.”

“It’s buttoned on the side. Inside.” A sheen of sweat glimmered on her upper lip. She near to whimpered, forehead creasing with complaint, and scrambled for the bottom of his T-shirt. She tossed the material to the floor and moved on to the Velcro fly of his board shorts.

He placed a hand gently on the side of her neck, kissed the opposite collarbone. “Hold on, Laur. I don’t mind speeding this up some, but I don’t want to miss the next part.”

Shaking, eyes closed, she paused. Clenched her hands around his hips as, with a care he’d only ever felt for Lauren, he popped a few of the hidden buttons holding her robe together. Jade lace peeked out on one side from the parted fabric. He traced a finger along the exposed material.

“Tavish.” She kneaded his hips and squirmed under his touch, bucked forward. Pressed her heat into his hardening erection. He let out a loud groan and dispensed with the rest of her buttons. Her robe parted like a jacket, only a few scraps of sheer lingerie covering all the parts he wanted to touch.

Starting with her mouth. “I haven’t even kissed you yet.” And he’d fix that. He claimed her soft lips with his, nipped and delved and loved her mouth until the faint hint of her chocolate-and-coffee breakfast flooded every part of his tongue.

Reaching again for his shorts, she dipped her fingers under the back of his waistband and cinched her legs around his hips. Her soft center was aligned with his very need. Amazing enough on its own, but then she twisted her hips. He had to lock his knees.

“Tavish, foreplay is nice and all...”

“Nice?” He shot her a look of mock insult and reached a finger down to the lace below her navel, drew a wavy line in and out of the top inch of her panties.

“Really nice.” Her chest rose and her thighs tightened around his pelvis.

Tavish’s mind cleared of everything but Lauren and how good it was going to feel to bury himself in her body. He flicked open the front clasp of her bra and cupped her breasts with all the reverence she deserved, swirled his thumbs around her beading nipples. “Pixie, you are so gorgeous.”

“You, too. But I want more.” She framed his face in her hands, took his lips hostage and dueled with his tongue until he could barely breathe. “All of you. Now.”

* * *

Within seconds of her command, one that came from a place Lauren hadn’t known existed, Tavish unwound her legs from his hips. He shucked off his shorts.

Lauren was caught by his beauty. Not unawares. She knew the shape of his muscular chest, the hair that delineated the center of his abs. But having all of Tavish in front of her, having him offer himself to her, made her realize how unprepared she was. Unprepared to deal with the sum of muscles and entrancing tattoo and that sexy happy trail. And every time she tried to speed up the kissing and stroking, he slowed her down.

She didn’t want to question having asked him to stay, just wanted to escape into the sensual haze. Shedding her panties, she pulled his hips back into the cradle of her own. A groan escaped from his parted lips. He played with the ends of her half-dry hair, ran his fingers through it. Seemed to savor, soak in the sensual touch.

The trees and water of his tattoo rippled, took on life. She outlined the diamond shape from the top of his rib cage, along the smooth skin of his side until she hit cotton. She nudged down the waist of his boxers, her fingers kissing the tight ridge of muscle that arrowed toward his groin. And something about the movement of his muscle under ink had her straightening. “Oh, my God. You designed your tattoo. It’s your river spot.”

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