Clutch Hit by Faith O'Shea (books to improve english .txt) 📕

Her eyes met his and held.

“No.”

His eyes narrowed. “You seemed willing in Cancun.”

She dipped her head, cleared her throat and said, “I’ve been in somewhat of a drought and I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

He couldn’t help but smile. The drought part might work in his favor.

“And yet here I am.”

Her eyes fluttered closed and she said under her breath, “And here you are.”

He took that moment to lean in for a kiss. It was gentle, tender, but the taste of her filled him with a need he wasn’t sure he could deny. He leaned his forehead against hers.

“I would like very much like to make love to you. Will you let me?”

He’d been fantasizing about that for months but unless she was willing…

When he felt her hands on his face, a shiver ran down his spine. When she guided his head away from hers, he fell into her cat-like eyes. When she fit her lips to his, the blood in his veins went hot and molten. Heat curled tight in his gut, threatening his control.

He shifted, caressing the line of her back with his fingers as the kiss deepened. There was an unexpected measure of wildness in her response and it enflamed him further. He wasn’t sure he could take this slowly, like he wanted to, needed to. If she suddenly decided that this was a mistake, backed away from him, it would all but kill him.

Testing the waters, he exerted a more provocative pressure on her lips and when they parted, he invaded the sweet sanctuary of her mouth. Her tongue danced with his, a dance of passion, lust, and hopefully love.

He groaned, needing more of her. His hands moved slowly, sensually, up her back, sliding his thumb against the swell of her breast. She moaned, and those luscious lips wandered over him, trailing kisses along his jaw, nipping his neck with love bites. He began to push her sweater up, inch by slow, agonizing inch, and when she raised her arms, giving him permission, he lifted up and off.

His eyes burned into hers as he unclasped her bra and slipped the straps off her shoulders, letting it fall to the carpeted floor. Then they dropped to take her in. Her nipples were taut, the naked globes of flesh tantalizing. He wanted to bury his face there and never come up, not for air, not even for baseball.

Her hands were on his face again, lifting his head so she could meet his gaze.

“If I give myself to you, you have to promise—”

His breath was ragged when he interrupted. “How can I be anything but faithful? You are my wife, and you are exquisite.”

The sentiment hadn’t erased her look of vulnerability. He wanted to convince her he wouldn’t betray those vows, that he’d waited his whole life for her. Words could not convey what he felt, so he’d let his body tell her.

Burying his face in the valley between her breasts, he drew one nipple at a time into his mouth, savoring the tempting morsels, his hunger for her a ravaged need. They had tightened into pebbles, and in his greed, he covered a mound with a firm, wet mouth, and when she shuddered, he claimed the other. After he’d sampled each one, he stood back, the glistening peaks arching out to him for more. He took them in his hands and scraped his palms over them, spreading the moisture in one sensual path down her chest and around her back until she was covered in his saliva.

“Eres mi esposa y te llenaré de mi amor.”

Whether she knew what he’d whispered or not, the endearment had prompted her to kiss him possessively, as if she wanted to fill him with her love as well.

She pulled at his sweater, her movements frantic, and he obliged her by stripping it off in one motion. Her hands claimed his chest, her mouth now on his nipple, first one, then the other, the kisses hungry and hurried. With lust-glazed eyes, she studied him, her fingers now tracing his shoulders, his biceps, his abs, with reverence.

Her voice shook with emotion. “You are beautiful, Mateo. I guessed you would be, but my imagination failed to capture just how much.”

He wrapped his arms loosely around her, bent to whisper in her ear, “I am yours, mi amor. All of me, yours for the taking.”

She threaded her fingers in the mat of hair on his chest, her nails scratching the surface, and when they traveled lower and her thumbs hooked in his waist band, he sucked in his breath.

More heat rushed to his loins, already thick with blood. When she unsnapped his jeans and began to pull his zipper down, he stood stock-still, afraid to breathe. When his pants were at his feet, he stepped out of them and stood in full naked glory, his penis engorged and throbbing.

Her brows were drawn together, her lips parted as she examined him. It was only when she touched him that he thought he’d died and gone to heaven. He took her hand, and he rasped out, “I’m close, mi amor. And I want to be inside you when I come.”

He lifted her in his arms, carried her to his bedroom, and placed her tenderly on the bed. He worked her pants off so she lay open to him. The musk of her scent seeped into his soul, and he bent down so he could taste the honey. As he dragged his tongue over her and toyed with the wet heat he found, he knew he was about to experience the light that was blazing inside her essence.

He buried himself inside of her as deeply as he could, one slow thrust at a time. She writhed beneath him, until they began to rock, stroke after sensuous stroke, nudging them toward the edge. Her silky sex rubbed against him, the ridge of his sex near to exploding from the delicious friction. When the