“I think you know the answer to that.”
“I might at that,” she mused and set her glass down again to take off the cream-colored Irish sweater she wore. Pulling it up and over her head, she shook her hair back and smiled up at him.
Jefferson sucked in a gulp of air, then chased it with a swallow of cold, crisp wine. All she’d been wearing under that sweater of hers tonight was a white silk camisole that clung to her skin and displayed her pebbled ni**les with fine clarity.
“You must have been freezing tonight,” he muttered.
“A bit,” she admitted, “though inside the pub was warm enough and I’ll admit, I thought perhaps we might end up back here tonight and I wanted to see the look on your face when I took off the sweater.”
“And was it worth it?” he managed to ask.
“Aye, it was.” She reached up, hooked one hand behind his head and threaded her fingers through his hair. “I’ve been wanting you, Jefferson.”
His body jumped into overdrive, his erection painfully pushing against his slacks. “Have you?”
“I have. I think you’ve been wanting me, as well,” she added, moving in closer to him.
“Aye,” he mimicked. “I have.”
Her fingers at the back of his neck felt seductive and sure and he suddenly wanted that touch all over him. He needed to feel her hands on him, to get his hands on her.
He set his glass down and reached for her. Holding her pressed tightly against him, he felt her ni**les pushing into his chest and damn near groaned. Then he had to smile. “You know, I’d planned to seduce you tonight.”
She grinned up at him. “Well, isn’t it a fine thing indeed when two plans come together so nicely?”
“Indeed,” he murmured and bent his head to take a kiss. The first of many. His mouth covered hers and she sighed into him, parting her lips eagerly, hungrily. She matched his need and as their tongues twisted and danced together, the flames they built erupted into an inferno.
He wrapped his arms around her, holding her pressed tightly to him and still it wasn’t close enough. Couldn’t feel enough of her. He needed her naked. Needed to feel skin to skin, rough to smooth. He needed to slide his body into hers and feel her heat surround him.
And he needed it now.
Quickly, he swept her up, turned around and plopped her down onto the kitchen counter. She whooped in surprise, but recovered quickly enough. Wrapping her legs around his middle, she clung to him, her tongue tangling with his, their breaths combining into a symphony of sighs that filled the quiet of the old house with the desperate sounds of passion.
Again and again, he kissed her, long, deep, short, fast. He loved the taste of her. Richer than any wine, headier than any intoxicant could be. She was all. She was everything. The world spun about her and he was pulled into her orbit with the deliberate tug of a gravity too fierce to fight.
He yanked up the hem of that silken camisole, tore it up over her head, then tossed it behind him without missing a beat. Her br**sts were bared to him and he inhaled sharply as he fed the need to admire her. Full, ripe br**sts with dark pink ni**les, peaked now as if just awaiting his pleasure.
Jefferson cupped those milk-white globes in his hands and sighed himself with her whispered approval. His thumbs and forefingers tweaked and pulled gently at her ni**les and when she writhed into him, he dipped his head, taking first one, then the other into his mouth. He licked, he sucked, he nibbled and the sounds she made urged him on, encouraged him to take all he wanted.
Her hands fisted in his hair and held his head to her br**sts as if she were worried he’d stop. But stopping wasn’t in the game plan. In fact, he couldn’t have stopped now if his life depended on it. God help him if she were to suddenly change her mind and show him the door. He’d never live through it.
He pulled back, looked up into misty blue eyes and returned the grin she had aimed at him.
“Let’s have your shirt off, Jefferson,” she said. “I’ve a need to feel your skin beneath my hands.”
He obliged her quickly, tearing off his own sweater and the shirt he wore beneath it. Then he groaned as her palms swept over his shoulders and along his back. The warmth of her touch slid into him and sent bolts of fresh need shooting through his system. Her short nails scraped at his skin. Her breath came in hard, brief pants and when she slid her hands down his arms, they were both gasping for air.
“Help me with these,” she said, her voice low and tight as though she’d had to force the words from her throat.
“What?”
“My jeans, man.” She had them unsnapped and was whipping the zipper down as she spoke. She’d already kicked off her shoes. “Help me out of them before I lose my mind for the wanting.”
“Right, right.” His head was full and spinning. All he could think about was the next touch, the next kiss. So he helped her out of her pants, lifting her off the counter so she could scoot around and free herself of both jeans and white cotton bikini underwear.
Jefferson had one shining moment of clarity when he realized that her simple, plain panties were more erotic than any scraps of black lace he’d ever seen. Then the moment was gone and he was lost in the glory of looking at her. Her milk-white skin was soft and smooth and he ached to touch her all over. Explore every curve, every line of her body until he knew her more intimately than any other man ever had.
“Now yours,” she said, reaching for his belt buckle. She grinned, tossed her hair back over her shoulder and met his eyes with her own. She was strong and sure of herself, and the sexual ache he felt went a notch higher. “I’ve a powerful need for you, Jefferson, and I’m not a patient woman as you might have noticed.”
“Believe me, I’m grateful to hear it,” he muttered, stepping out of his clothes and standing na**d in front of her. His body leaped to attention, hard and thick and aching to ease itself inside her. But Jefferson had one more quick moment of reason show itself, so he said, “We should go upstairs. To your bedroom.”
“Later,” she countered, reaching for him, wrapping her arms around his neck even as she parted her legs and scooted forward to the counter’s edge. “If I don’t have you inside me this moment, Jefferson King, I’ll not be responsible for what happens next.”
“My kind of woman,” he growled with a smile. “I knew it the moment I saw you.”
Her hands cupped his cheeks again. “Then fill me, Jefferson, ease the ache.”