Those male lips seemed to soften. "Then tell me what you want."
If her heart hadn't already been his, he would've captured it then and there. He might be in a dangerous mood, but he was hers - maybe she didn't have all of him but what she had, she would cherish with every breath in her. "I want to see you," she whispered.
His eyes snapped up to meet her gaze. "I was thinking more along the lines of what would pleasure you. I don't have much patience left."
"You never had much patience," she teased, though her stomach was tight with such frantic sensual craving, it hurt. "Seeing your body gives me pleasure."
Eyes holding a surprised, strangely vulnerable look, he reached down, undid a few buttons on his dress shirt, then pulled it off and threw it to the side. All at once, his beautiful, na**d chest was there for her to taste, kiss, enjoy. This very dominant male had just given her total skin privileges. Delighted, she flattened her hands on him, luxuriating in the tensile strength of pure muscle covered by hot, dark, beautiful skin. The crispness of the hair that curled under her palms was yet another seductive sensation.
She felt him place his hands on her h*ps but was too focused on his beauty to pay attention. Never, before Clay, had the mere sight of a man been enough for her body to ready itself for penetration. But today she was melting from the inside out and oh, how she liked it. Trailing her fingers down his chest, she found herself wondering what it would feel like to strip off her clothing and rub her ni**les against the rough heat of him. Something tightened between her thighs, a hungry, aching need that begged to be satisfied.
There was a vibration against her palms. She bit her lower lip, fought the wave of sheer pleasure...and the piercing realization that that vibration would serve to intensify the sensations she craved. "You're purring again."
His lips curved. "I can scent your arousal."
It should've made her blush. But it only made her hotter. "I can see yours." He was hard under the straining zipper of his jeans. And big. Very big. Her body clenched and unclenched, urging her to unzip him, let him fill her up. It would hurt so-damn-good.
"Drop your arms."
Face hot with the erotic images dancing through her head, she raised it to discover he'd unbuttoned her shirt. "No." Wrapping her arms around his neck, she leaned in. "Kiss me first."
"Going to be a brat in bed, too?" His hands slipped under her open shirt to hold on to her waist as he took her mouth in hot, languorous kiss that made her feel so sexy she thought she might just be able to conquer the world.
"I get to give a few orders, too," she murmured.
His hands slipped down, closed over her bottom. Squeezed. She was still gasping over that when one of those deliciously callused hands slid up over her back and around to her front. She held her breath.
Chapter 33
He didn't just touch her breast. He held with bold possessiveness. Squeezed there, too. And she decided to obey his order. Dropping her arms, she tugged off her shirt. It stuck at her elbows. Clay took full advantage, wrapping the material in his free hand and using it as a binding to keep her hands behind her back.
"I don't like being restrained," she complained.
He squeezed her breast again, then cut through the straps and the middle section of her bra with a single sharp claw, retracted a second later. "Can't I even pet you in peace?"
Then her bra was gone and Clay was looking at her, his hand spread big and confident below her br**sts. Her heart galloped. With each indrawn breath, it was as if she was pushing up her br**sts for his enjoyment. They weren't huge. Not even close. But right now, they seemed to have taken over her body.
"Apples," Clay said, his eyes cat-bright.
She had no idea what he was talking about. "Apples?"
"I love apples." He bent that dark head and closed his teeth around one nipple.
She couldn't breathe.
Then he flicked his tongue over the flesh and the air rushed out of her in a burst of hunger and need and pleasure. Releasing the nipple, he took her breast in a scorching hot kiss that reduced her to whimpers. Somewhere along the line, she got rid of the shirt and thrust her hands in his hair, wordlessly urging him to give her more.
God, she was being greedy. But he didn't seem to mind. She promised her half-dazed mind that she'd make it up to him. Right now, she wanted to indulge herself, to let him indulge her.
He pressed a kiss to the heated valley between her br**sts and nuzzled his way up her neck. "We should go up to bed."
She kissed him, unable to resist the temptation of his sensual lips. "Later."
"Later," he agreed and pushed her backward.
When her back touched a soft surface, she realized he'd used his foot to drag the other cushion closer. She raised her arms and he came down on top of her, the cushions forming the perfect bed. His hand stroked her from neck down to waist as he claimed her mouth in another ravaging kiss. She had never felt more taken, more possessed. But for the first time, the possession held tenderness. And she knew that what was happening in this makeshift bed with Clay was something new, something indefinably precious.
Under her roaming palms, his muscles moved in a slow symphony that was as seductive as his kiss. Clay was all big shoulders, heavy muscle, and tremendous power. She dug her fingers into him and was fairly sure he barely noticed. "Clay," she murmured against his mouth, "tell me what you like."
"Harder," he said, nibbling at her lower lip. "I'm not soft like you."
She caressed him with firmer strokes and was gratified to hear his breath catch. But he didn't give her long to enjoy that, dipping his head and suckling at her neck in a way that she knew was going to leave a mark. "So good." She shuddered.