Burned by Sarah Morgan

his forehead to mine.
    The anticipation was almost killing me.
    The ache in my pelvis was so intense I had to struggle not to wriggle on the counter. For several seconds he just looked at me, and I looked at him, wondering how long I could keep this up without ripping his clothes off.
    Just when I thought I was going to have to abandon dignity and beg, he slid his hand behind my head and brought his mouth down on mine.
    This time there was less of the uncontrolled crazy and more of the deliberate. His kiss was slow, sure and insanely sexy, A strange weakness spread through me, the craving instant and total. If any man knew how to kiss, it was Hunter. I moaned and parted my lips against his, inviting more, offering more. Heat uncoiled deep inside me and spread through my body. My limbs felt shaky and useless. His grip on my face tightened, I felt the erotic slide of his tongue against mine and I lifted my hands to his arms, resting my hands on his rock-hard biceps.
    I’d never been with a guy as strong as Hunter. Not that it should make a difference, because it’s not as if he used that strength when we were having sex. On the contrary, he controlled it ruthlessly, held himself in check, but there was something about knowing he was doing that that was deeply sexy. He was all man, from the top of his glossy hair to the soles of his bare feet.
    He curved an arm round my back, holding me firmly, and the other slid to my breast.
    I wasn’t wearing a bra, because frankly, there wasn’t much point. The rough pads of his fingers grazed my nipple and sensation shot through me. Just a touch, a simple touch, and yet already I was desperate. The pleasure was dark and exciting, the intensity just a little scary.
    He kept his mouth on mine, explored my mouth with ruthless control, but I could feel that control slipping. I could feel the change in him, feel the ravenous hunger that made his kiss a little rougher, a little harder and I didn’t mind, because I felt the same way. Something happened when we were together. Something that, for me, had never happened with anyone else.
    Without lifting his mouth from mine he dropped his hands to the counter either side of me, caging me. I could feel him through the thick fabric of his jeans, rock-hard and ready. I heard myself moan and slid my hands round his back and under his shirt. My hands made contact with sleek male skin and rippling muscle. I ground myself into him, heard him curse softly and then he was lifting me off the counter and unzipping my jeans. It took a couple of attempts because his hands weren’t quite steady and my jeans were glued to me but somehow that made it all the more exciting. I sensed that he was right on the edge of control and I loved the fact it wasn’t just me who felt this way. And then I was naked, my jeans on the floor with the rest of my clothes, and he lifted me back onto the kitchen counter. I gasped as the cool surface touched my bare bottom. I was wondering what he had in mind when he straddled the stool in front of me. His eyes were dark, hooded and fixed on me. Holding my thighs apart with his hands, he finally broke eye contact and lowered his mouth to my inner thigh.
    The contrast between the cold of the surface and the heat of his mouth made me moan. I felt his tongue trace the sensitive skin at the top of my thigh. Everything he did was full of explicit promise and my insides reached melting point in two seconds flat. I needed him inside me, right then, but he didn’t seem in a hurry to oblige. Instead he proceeded to torture me with pleasure. He explored every single part of me except that one place that was desperate for his touch.
    ‘Hunter...’ I moaned his name, thinking that I might have to kill him if he didn’t put me out of my misery soon.
    His tongue trailed maddeningly close to that part of me and I tried to shift my hips but his hands clamped tight on my thighs, holding me trapped and still so that I was totally at his