Beyond the Ivory Tower by Jill Blake Page A

Even on tip-toes, she was a couple inches short of grabbing it. “Could you…?”
    Before she could complete the request, Ethan stepped up behind her and brought the dish down.
    “Thanks.” She transferred the leftovers from the serving platter, sealed the lid, and turned in the direction of the fridge, only to find that Ethan hadn’t moved. The seconds ticked by. He watched in fascination as color rose up her neck and into her cheeks. Her eyes widened and the pupils dilated as he slowly bent his head to capture her mouth. The container dropped, unheeded, to the counter.
    Her skin was soft, her body supple as he turned her in his arms and molded her against him. She sighed into him, and he drank in the sound. Her fingers slid around his waist, up his back, and she pressed closer. The dress was thin enough that he could feel the unmistakable hardening of her nipples. He swept a hand up her ribs, palming her breast and stroking a thumb over the tight peak. She shivered.
    Damn . If he didn’t slow down, this would be over before it even began.
    He pulled back slightly and nearly changed his mind when she made a soft sound of protest.
    “Anna,” he groaned, and couldn’t resist dropping a soft kiss on her swollen lips.
    She opened her mouth and lured him back in, sucking on his tongue. The sensation shot straight to his groin. Without even meaning to, he clamped his free hand on the sweet curve of her ass and lifted, bending his knees so that his erection aligned with her pelvis. And then he rocked against her, and she gasped, releasing his mouth, arching her head back, exposing her neck. He kissed the pulsing hollow between her collar bones and moved down, burying his nose between her breasts.
    “Wait,” she murmured. Her fingers found the back of his head, burrowing into his hair.
    The word was so at odds with the continued movement of her body that at first he didn’t react. But then she repeated it, tugging on his hair. “Ethan, wait.”
    He lifted his head, panting. “What?”
    “The bedroom,” she said, and he felt such a surge of relief that he had to lean against the counter to avoid dropping her.
    “Yes,” he said, and let go of her breast so he could pull her thigh up around his waist and carry her out of the kitchen, past the dining room table they hadn’t finished clearing, and down the hall toward the open door she pointed out at the end.
    There was enough light from the hallway for him to see the bed and get a vague impression of utilitarian furnishings—a single nightstand, bureau, walls lined with bookshelves.
    The mattress was soft, large enough to accommodate both of them, but small enough that regardless of position, he would be able to reach out and touch her as they slept.
    Not that he planned on getting much sleep tonight.
    She was obviously of the same mindset, twining her arms around him as soon as he lowered her to the bed, pulling him down on top of her and softly biting his lip until he opened and let her tongue sweep inside.
    He rolled to avoid crushing her, bringing her with him, so she ended up on top. That left his hands free to explore: her back, the narrow span of her waist, the squeezable globes of her ass, the sleekly muscled thighs. Briefly, he wondered what she did to stay so fit. But as soon as the thought surfaced, it vanished again beneath the double stimulation of her tongue sliding against his and her stiff nipples pressing into his chest.
    The hem of her dress caught on his wrist as he smoothed a hand up her thigh, and his fingers encountered bare skin. A tiny shiver, and then she parted her legs, drawing her knees up until they rested on the duvet on either side of his hips, leaving her open to his questing fingers.
    He took advantage of the position, stroking beneath the flimsy excuse for panties. She was hot and wet, the folds of her sex so slick that he was able to ease first one, then a second finger inside her. Her inner walls closed tightly around him, and he