Page 84 of In Shining Armor

She ran her lips down the blond fuzz that covered his sternum to the hard cords of his abs.

He stretched under her mouth, the hard muscle shifting under his skin. “Jesus, Flicka.”

She crawled on top of him, straddling his hips and bracing one hand on his wrists above his head. Her lips were right above his when she asked, “Do you still want to talk?”

Dieter’s gray eyes had taken on that intense focus that could have been mistaken for anger, but she had seen it too many times to misunderstand.

His voice growled low in his throat, and he said, “Kiss me.”

She locked her mouth on his and thrust her tongue between his lips. He twisted one of his arms away from her grip and snaked it around her waist, pressing her front against his muscular torso.

His warm scent and hot skin wrapped around her, and Flicka stopped thinking and worrying about what would happen later.

She let go of his other wrist to move her hair aside because it was clinging to her neck. Dieter grabbed her ass, pushing her stomach against the hard shaft of his erection and biting her shoulder.

God, she had missed him.

Flicka pulled away and sat up, struggling to get her blouse off.

Dieter sat up with her and ran his palms up her ribs and his mouth over her breasts. She arched under the heat of his mouth.

Her shirt dropped off her arms behind her and drifted to the floor.

Dieter’s arms were around her waist and hips as he mouthed her breasts, peeling her bra away with his scratchy chin to get to the peaks. He sucked hard on her, pulling, and she keened as desire shot through her.

She shoved his shirt off his shoulders, and he released her for a moment as she pushed the sleeves down his strong arms and wrestled his undershirt off over his head.

When she freed his arms from the shirt, he grabbed her again and pressed his mouth on her, biting and sucking hard.

Flicka wrapped her arms around his shoulders, balancing, as he sucked her tits until her nipples turned pink and tender.

He pushed her backward, off his lap.

Flicka stumbled to her feet and started pushing her slacks down her legs.

He helped her, stripping her trousers and panties off.

She grabbed his waistband, tugging them down, and snagged his boxers at the same time.

Dieter pried the waistband off the head of his rod as she pulled his pants down his strong thighs.

Hard, thick muscles braided his legs.

In the years they’d been apart, someone hadn’t been skipping leg day.Wow.

His shaft was as thick and long as she remembered, too, dark rose and curving slightly back toward his stomach. She had thought that she might have been idealizing it in her head, butdamn.Thick veins ran up its length to the thick, dark head straining at the top, where a drop of wetness glistened.

She yanked his pants off his ankles.

Dieter held out his hand. “Give them to me.”

She handed over the pants as she climbed back on the bed, and Dieter frantically searched his pockets and came up with a foil packet.

“Prepared, aren’t you?” she muttered as her skin settled on his blazing hot chest.

“If you’re not prepared in the Alps, you die,” he grunted, flipping her over on her back.

“Whoa.Wait!”