Summer of Love by Marie Ferrarella (easy to read books for adults list .TXT) 📕

his other splayed flat on her stomach. It was that hand that made her go all liquid inside. It wasn’t doing anything special but it was between two very sensitive areas of her body, both of which were doing their damnedest to coax his fingers to slide their way.

A gentle touch of his tongue was enough to get her full attention.

Yes!

Surely he wouldn’t stop this time. It had been ages since she’d been with someone. So long that the slightest movement of his body had her eagerly lapping up the sensations like a person deprived of food and water, and desperate for any sign of relief.

She was ready for that kind of relief. For him.

Clint.

And here he was, in her house. And there was absolutely no one around. Not her mom. Not Chelsea.

Just the two of them.

So she pressed closer to him, deepening their kiss, his soft lips making her feel dizzy with need.

And finally … finally, the hand at her waist woke up, his thumb drawing little circles on her belly that had her moaning with anticipation, arching up into it with a mental plea that he evidently heard. Because with a single movement it slid up and over her right breast, that circling thumb finding her nipple without hesitation. Her sundress had a built-in bra, but it was thin, just a shelf of netting with a piece of elastic beneath it, so his touch was heady and intimate, arcing straight down to her toes and then back up again.

When his fingers moved away, she whimpered in protest. His mouth slid from hers, depriving her of another point of contact.

“Clint …”

His hand moved to the back of her head, supporting it as the scrape of his chin along her cheek put him at her ear. “I don’t want to stop.”

The moment of truth. She sensed he was giving her time to compose herself, to give her a chance to put an end to things even while telling her he didn’t want to.

She made a dangerous decision.

“Then don’t.”

His fingers tightened on the back of her head. Then his other hand went to the thin strap on her sundress and tugged it down her arm, leaving one shoulder bare.

There was a slight hesitation, then that wicked thumb went to work, brushing the joint where her shoulder met her arm. “Is this what you want?”

“More.” The word came out as a shaky whisper. She hardly dared to believe she was goading him to continue. But this was exactly what she needed. To have someone just sweep aside her normal code of conduct and make her … feel again.

“How about this?” His fingertips moved higher, trailing from beneath her jaw down the side of her neck and along her collarbone. Light ticklish touches that made her ache and squirm.

She wanted him everywhere at once, kissing her mouth, cupping her breast, filling her with his heat where it counted the most. So she took his hand and placed it on her breast, where she wanted it.

“You read my mind, Jess.” The words came out in a half growl that made her shiver.

He ducked beneath the edge of her sundress and found her bare skin. He paused then curved his palm over her, the light friction on her nipple sending a low sound up her throat.

“Hell, woman. You need to warn a man before you go braless.”

Encouraged by the rough words, she bit her way up his jaw and then smiled against his mouth. “My dress has a bra. You just missed it.”

“Could have fooled me.” His thumb and forefinger captured the tight bead and gave a gentle squeeze that made her squirm again. “But in that case …”

He removed his hand and urged her off the couch and onto her feet, while he sat, legs splayed.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“I want to see you—all of you—but at the rate I’m going, I’m not going to make it that far.” A quick flash of teeth accompanied the words.

She smiled back at him, his meaning giving her a shot of courage and daring her to tease him back. “I think I can help with that. What would you like to see first?” Balling the skirt portion of her dress, she slid the hem part way up her thighs, keeping her attention focused on his face.

A muscle worked in his jaw, and he placed his hands flat on his thighs. “Let’s start from the top. And work our way down. Just like we did in school.”

The reminder of how his hands had trailed from her face to her breasts and finally down to that last forbidden place made hot need spurt through her. And the way his knuckles turned white as his long fingers dug into his thighs told her that need wasn’t one-sided.

“Okay, let’s do that.” She let go of her skirt and trailed the back of her right hand down her neck, like he’d done moments earlier, only she didn’t stop at her collarbone. Instead, she dragged her fingers along the edge of her bodice—one strap still draped over her arm. The second strap flipped down.

“Next?” she asked, waiting for direction.

“Peel it down. Slowly.” The low words weren’t abrupt and bossy, rather they coaxed her to do his bidding. Dared her to cross a threshold to a room she’d never entered before. Her times with Larry had been good, but they’d been to the point. Vanilla sex that had been a sharing of hearts and minds, even if it hadn’t been superimaginative. Then again, they’d had such a short amount of time together, there hadn’t been a chance to venture much further than that.

And that wasn’t something she was going to think about.

Not when Clint was right here, holding the door open and asking her to step through it.

This was what she wanted—what she expected from Clint. Wild and raw and real … echoes of the rebellious boy he’d once been. The one who had whispered to a matching defiance within her, drawing it out and