Home Ice by Catherine Gayle Page B

inside my body. And damn if I didn’t want to let her. We both removed our coats, tossing them on the hall cabinet along with her purse to join the array I’d discovered earlier.
    I leaned back against the door and dragged her forward by her hips until she was nestled right up against me. I couldn’t get enough of her curves. Every time she’d allowed me to guide her with a hand on her back, I’d been dying to really touch her, to explore her body.
    Paige was petite and fit. Some women who worked hard to stay in shape lost most of their curves, toning until they were almost as straight and angular as me. Not Paige. She had the sexiest ass, one that her dress hugged and accented in a way that made my mouth water. I slipped my hands down and back, exploring how tight it was, its perfect shape, and she burrowed closer to me. My cock came to attention then, more urgently than it had been to that point, pressing into her belly. We fit together seamlessly, soft against hard, her curves molding to me in an addictive way. It was like we were made for each other.
    “I want to feel your hands on me,” she said, breathless, tugging my shirt up from my pants. “Everywhere. On my skin. And I want to touch you. I want to learn everything there is to know about your body, to memorize the feel of you.”
    When she freed my hem, I still hadn’t processed the fact that the very thing I’d been unable to stop thinking about for the last week was really happening. Her fingertips teased my abs as she slid them up my torso.
    “Weren’t we supposed to be taking this to the couch?” I asked.
    She popped open a couple of my buttons. “We could take it straight to the bedroom.”
    I fought down a groan. “No point wasting time?”
    In lieu of an answer, she took my hand and took charge, leading me up the stairs and down the hall. She didn’t leave me any time to take in my surroundings. She spun me around and pushed on my chest with both hands, and I fell back onto the bed. I reached for her as I collapsed, gripping her thighs and drawing her up so she straddled me. That forced her dress to inch upward. Starting at the backs of her knees, I teased her sensitive skin as I began my study of her—learning what she liked; discovering her erogenous zones; discerning if she preferred soft or hard, fast or slow, rough or gentle.
    As I trailed my fingers up the backs of her thighs, my eyes never leaving hers, she made short work of undoing my shirt and pushing it back over my shoulders. She raked her eyes over my chest, and then she followed the same path with her hands.
    When Paige touched me, it was unlike any other woman’s touch I’d ever experienced. It was as if her hands were an extension of her soul, and she was using them to find mine. I’d had plenty of massages in my day, but this was as different as night and day. She followed a path her hands knew well, even though she’d never had those hands on me before, exploring the way the various muscles came together.
    Then she dropped her head and used her tongue to follow the same trail her fingers had just blazed. I sucked in a sharp breath.
    Paige lifted her head enough that she could look in my eyes, her tongue on my skin. I propped myself up on my elbows so I could watch, content for now to let her do as she would.
    She traced the lines of my pecs with her tongue, lazily moving closer to my nipple and driving me out of my mind with need. When she reached it, she flicked her tongue a couple of times before taking it into her mouth and sucking, and my cock jerked as if that was where she had her mouth. With a lusty laugh, she wiggled her hips.
    That was enough to brush the heat of her center over the tip of my cock. Never mind the fact that we were both almost fully clothed. I was practically desperate to get inside her, but at the same time, I hated the thought of putting an end to her ministrations. Paige Calhoun was a woman who knew what she wanted, and I’d be damned if I