Forever Buckhorn: Gabe. Lori FosterЧитать онлайн книгу.
it, then became a silky line that disappeared into the very low waistband of his shorts… Her eyes widened.
With his wet cutoffs clinging to his body, there was no way to miss his obvious arousal. Fascinated, she couldn’t help but stare for a moment. Never, not in real life, anyway, had she seen an erection. Heat exploded inside her, making her cheeks pulse, her vision blur.
Her gaze flew to his face, desperate, confused, excited. His grin, slow and wicked, taunted her. He didn’t say a word, and she knew he was waiting for her to back down.
She couldn’t. Not now, not with him challenging her. But…
Licking her lips, Elizabeth croaked, “Are you sure we should do this?”
He shrugged one hard shoulder in a show of negligence. “No one will see. Don’t be a coward, Lizzy. It’s just a kiss.”
Just a kiss. She remembered how those women on the dock had hung on him, how every woman who passed in a boat had stared at him with hunger. He was used to kissing, used to so much more. She couldn’t recall any other man in all her acquaintance ever demanding such a thing from her. No wonder she was at a loss as to how to proceed. She preferred to arm herself with knowledge, to learn from a book what she didn’t understand. But she hadn’t known to research this particular theme. She frowned with that thought. Were there books to help you bone up on kissing a sexy-as-sin, half-dressed reclining man?
She eyed him warily. “Why don’t you…sit up?” The idea of leaning over him, of being that close to so much masculine flesh, flustered her horribly.
Without hesitation, Gabe shook his head. “Naw, I’m already comfortable. So quit stalling.”
He was right; the quicker she got it over with, the better. Like getting a tooth pulled, it meant just a flinch of pain, and then you were done.
Not giving herself time to think about it, she slapped one hand flat on the dock beside his head, bent down and brushed her mouth over his in a flash of movement. She straightened just as quickly and, avoiding his gaze, put her pencil to paper. Her voice shook slightly, but she ignored the tremor as she asked, “Now, when you leaped into the water with the runaway boat, were you afraid?”
“No.”
She waited, her pencil ready, but he said no more. Elizabeth rounded on him, her nerves too frazzled for more games. “That’s an awfully simplified answer.”
He gave her a wry look. “It was an awfully simplified kiss.”
Unable to help herself, she looked at his mouth. Her lips still tingled from the brief contact with his. It took all her concentration not to lick her lips, not to chew on them. Her heartbeat was still racing too quickly, her stomach was in knots of anticipation…no! Dread, not anticipation. She had to be philosophical. “You mean, if I made the kiss longer…”
So softly she could barely hear him, he said, “Why don’t you give it a try and see?”
She could do this! She was not a fainthearted ninny. Determination stiffened her spine. Sensual awareness sharpened her senses. She gave one quick nod.
Laying the pencil and paper aside, she bent, clasped her palms over his ears to anchor both him and herself, then kissed him for all she was worth.
Never having done much kissing, she had no idea if she was doing it right. But she mashed her mouth tightly to his, turned her head subtly so their lips meshed, and sighed. Or maybe it was more a growl filled with resolution.
His lips felt firm, warm. This close, his scent was stronger, drifting over her, making her insides fill with a new and unexpected need. He was so hot, his skin where they touched almost burning her. Her chin bumped his, their noses rubbed together, and her wrists rested on his silky hot shoulders. She stopped moving her mouth and simply breathed deeply.
Gabe groaned, then promptly laughed, startling her enough that she sat up and stared at him in hurt and confusion.
With a small smile, using only one rough finger, he stroked her bottom lip. His words were as gentle as his touch, and just as devastating. “You haven’t done much kissing, have you, Lizzy?”
Indignation would be misplaced; obviously, he could already tell she was inexperienced, so why should she deny it or be embarrassed? He could see what she looked like, had even used the same insulting taunt of Red she’d heard in grade school. He could probably guess at the other names—freckle face and scarecrow. And no doubt he understood the way she’d been ignored in high school, when all the boys were chasing cheerleaders with bubbly personalities and model faces.
None of that hurt her anymore. She had found more important things to do with her time. With an accepting shrug, she agreed. “Pitifully little, actually.” And even that was an exaggeration.
Amazingly, his smile turned seductive. He came up on his right elbow, wrapped the fingers of his left hand around her nape and pulled her close. Against her mouth, he whispered, “Then allow me.”
His tongue… Oh gracious. His mouth opened hers with almost no effort. His tongue touched, teased, not really entering her mouth, but making her crazed with small licks and tastes, softly, wetly stroking. She held herself very still so as not to disturb him or interrupt his progress.
Slowly, in infinitesimal degrees, he pulled his mouth away. His hand still held her neck, his fingers caressing, and he stared at her mouth. “You’re not kissing me back, Lizzy.”
“I…” She hadn’t realized he wanted her to. All her senses had been attuned to what he was doing, not what she might do. “Sorry.”
With a groan, he took her mouth again, not so gently this time, a hungry greed coming through to curl her toes and make her fingers go numb. Elizabeth leaned into him, tilted her head the tiniest bit to better accept his mouth. She braced her hands against his chest, then jerked at how hot his skin was, the way his chest hair felt on her palms. Her breasts tingled, and below her stomach an insistent tingling demanded her attention.
She panted, and this time when his tongue touched her mouth, she captured it, stroking her tongue against him.
She wasn’t sure if it was her heartbeat or his that rocked her. His hand left her head and captured her elbow. She found herself being slowly lowered to the dock, but she didn’t care; she just wanted him to go on kissing her like this, creating the overwhelming turmoil inside her. She liked it. She liked him—his taste, his hardness, his scent.
His chest crushed her breasts, but not uncomfortably. It helped to ease the ache there, but then the ache intensified, especially when he moved, abrading her taut nipples. She gasped.
He was braced over her with his elbows on either side of her head. Tentatively, uncertain how far she should go, Elizabeth placed her hands on his back. His tongue stroked deeply and she moaned, arching into him.
Gabe pulled away with a curse. He stared into her eyes, his face so close she could see his individual lashes, and then with another soft curse he sat up and gave her his back.
She struggled for breath, not certain what had happened, if she’d done something wrong. She pressed her palms flat on the rough wooden dock and tried to secure herself. Her head was spinning, her heart beating so wildly she thought it might punch right out of her chest. Her lungs felt constricted, and she couldn’t get enough air, which forced her to pant. And there was the most delicious tingling sensation deep inside her.
Gabe ran a hand through his hair, but he kept his back to her. She could see the straight line of his spine, the shift of his muscles as he, too, breathed deeply, quickly. With his attention elsewhere, she devoured him with her eyes. His skin was bronzed, testimony to how much time he spent on the lake, and a striking contrast to his fair hair and burning blue eyes. His damp shorts rode low on trim hips, but all she could see was tanned flesh.
Abruptly he shifted and speared her with a look, as if he’d sensed her regard. Over his shoulder, his gaze razor sharp, he growled, “Ask your damn question.”