Breakaway

Chapter 14 - Breakaway

But then she got bolder, and the tip of her tongue pressed against the seam of my lips.

I groaned when I opened for her, and groaned louder when her velvet-soft tongue slid against mine. The pulse in her throat was frantic against my palm when she changed her angle. Mine was just as intense, my blood roaring just as fast through my veins.

Dana lost her balance, falling against me. She put both hands on my shoulders to support herself but broke off the kiss.

I didn't even think about what I was doing. I lifted her, drew her over me so her legs were straddling my hips. The wrap skirt of her dress parted over my lap, gave me a glimpse of her panties. White. Cotton. Totally sensible. That turned me on more than any sexy little thong could have done because it was perfectly Dana.

Those panties, my slacks, and a tiny bit of space were all that were between us. All that kept me from being inside her. God knows I was hard enough it would take no time, otherwise.

My mouth felt dry, and I forced myself to look away, to look up at her face.

She was flushed—I hoped as much from arousal as from embarrassment. She had her head turned away from me.

Both my hands were still on her waist from when I'd lifted her onto me. I moved one hand up, cupped her cheek, and turned her to face me. She still wouldn't meet my eyes.

"Do you want to stop?" My voice hitched when I asked.

"No."

Thank God.

"Dana?" I let the pad of my thumb slide down her jawline, felt her tremble from my touch. "Look at me."

Inch by inch, gut-wrenching moment by gut-wrenching moment, she raised her eyes to meet mine. Hers were nearly black, frantic in a different way than I was used to seeing her. There was a little panic in there, but there was more. She was just as turned on as I was. If I touched her panties, I had no doubt they'd be wet with her need.

And that was the last thought I should have allowed myself to have right then.

One step. We had to move this forward one step at a time. Putting my hand on her sex was about seventy-three steps beyond the point we were at.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "It's just so much."

I knew that all too well. Every nerve in me was frayed; every inch of my body was zinging with awareness. I could only imagine how it must be for her, when she didn't have anything to compare it to other than when she'd been raped.

I kissed her chin. I had to kiss her somewhere, to touch her somehow. "You make me want things I have no business wanting."

"Like what?"

I didn't know if she was whispering so Soupy and Babs wouldn't hear or if that was all she was capable of. I didn't care. It was sexy as hell, her breaths warm and moist, washing across my face.

With one hand, she toyed with the hair at the nape of my neck, twirling it through her fingers. I wished she would fist her hand in it, tug on it hard, use it to guide my mouth where she wanted it.

I couldn't think while she was doing that.

"Like what?" she repeated a minute later.

"I want to touch you, Dana."

"You are touching me." Her hand stilled, though. She knew what I meant.

"I want more."

Just a tiny nod. "So do I."