Dinner With a Bad Boy by Kathy Lyons

the same trembling awe and fear. But when he looked into her eyes, silently sharing his own anxiety, she began to smile, a soft curling of her lips even as she let her legs relax open.
    "Sue," he whispered, amazed that he could speak at all. "I've been with... I've done..." He swallowed, searching for the words. "This is different. I know what you're feeling with just a touch." Then, as if to prove the point to himself, he lightly stroked his hand across her breast, luxuriating in the curve and the point on a purely sensual level, but stunned by the emotional ripples within him. He knew she loved his touch, wanted more of it. More of him. "It's never been like this before," he repeated. "God, Sue, I want you, but..."
    "Afraid?" she whispered.
    "Awed."
    She reached forward, stroking her hands across his chest, and he felt tiny explosions reverberate through him as she released a soft laugh. "Someone suggested I stop thinking. Just feel. But you know what?" she asked as she leaned forward to kiss his chest. "I think I've never been so sure about anything in my life."
    He closed his eyes, glorying in the sensations, but then she pulled away.
    "Look at me," she whispered. And he did. His eyes flew open to watch her rise up off the couch. He watched, his mouth going dry as she shrugged out of her open blouse, her glorious breasts bobbing just in front of him. Then he heard the slow rrrrrrrrr of her skirt zipper slipping lower and lower, and his blood and eyes followed the movement south. With a playful wiggle she slipped the skirt free, exposing— oh, God —thigh-high hose and the sexiest, tiniest scrap of thong lace already darkened with her moisture.
    "Mitch..." Her voice was a throaty purr, but she had to stroke his chin to get him to look up. "I love you," she said.
    There it was. His answer. Love made this different. This wasn't about bodies. It was about souls. He didn't know how to answer, so he did the only thing he could. He worshiped her. He glorified her every cell, every curve and ripple and moan and gasp.
    He went to his knees before her, kissing her belly, stroking his tongue around and beneath her thong. And when her knees began to buckle, he caught her, easing her down as he used his teeth to pull the fabric away. He kissed her everywhere, spreading her open to revere her private places. He felt her tension build and decided her pleasure was just beginning. Indeed, he wanted to spend his life giving her joy in any way he could.
    "Mitch." She moaned as he pushed his thumb into her.
    "Mitch!" She gasped as he tasted her. "Mitch!" she cried as she arched beneath him, bucking as she grabbed hold of him, dragging him upward across her body. "All of you," she demanded. "Now!"
    He wanted to give her everything. Everything he was, everything he had, everything he ever would be. He wanted to place them before her as tokens of his reverence. Instead she tugged his pants away, freeing him to do what she demanded. So with one deep, full stroke he entered her, touching her as deeply as he knew how, wishing he could give her more, while all the time his body shook with need.
    She cried out in ecstasy, and he repeated the thrust, wanting to prolong her joy even while the fire entered his mind, overwhelming his restraint. In. Again. And again. Until he burst open, pouring himself into her as she shook with the power of her own fulfillment.
    His last thought before collapsing beside her was that he had given her everything he had and more, and yet he'd never, ever felt more complete.
    * * *
    He floated in a pool of absolute contentment. No thoughts clouded his feelings. If anything, flashes of memory only enhanced his mood. He recalled Sue's body shuddering around him. Her giggle as he stumbled when he scooped her up and carried her to the bedroom. Her body flowing around him as she settled her head onto his shoulder, her breath a sweet caress. And best of all, a total suffusion of joy when she'd whispered, "I love you."
    God, he