Page 58 of Kane

Perfect?

His eyes tell me he is not merely saying what I want to hear. It is the truth, for him. And it makes me feel beautiful. It makes me feel secure in my nakedness, and even proud to be naked for him to see.

He is not done, however.

He cups and holds, kisses and licks my breasts, and in the process brings me down to my back. His hand skates through my hair as my head hits the sleeping bag, fanning it out so it does not catch under me. Now he is over me, his bulk sheltering me, and his mouth continues to worship my breasts—yes, that is the correct word. Worship.

I can only breathe through it, holding on to his bare, hard, heavy shoulders and cradling his head to me. But then…his mouth leaves my breasts. Slips to my navel. His fingers curl into the waist of my jeans, and before I know what is happening, they are undone, button open and zipper lowered.

“Kane?” I ask, voice a hesitant breath.

His lips touch my skin below my navel, above the elastic of my panties. “I want more of you.”

I gasp, swallow hard. He kisses along the line of the elastic. “More?”

He nods, a bobbing of his head. “Alotmore.” His fingers curl again, this time inside the waist of my panties. “You trust me?”

“Yes.” It is immediate.

“Want it?”

I nod.

“Need the words, darlin’. Look at me and tell me you want this.” His voice brooks no hesitation.

“I trust you, Kane. I want it. I want to give you more of me.” I trace a lock of his wild blond hair behind his ear. “Show more to me, please.”

His grin is hot and wolfish, a baring of teeth.

Pleased. Eager.Hungry.

He drags my panties down, bringing my jeans with them. It is not a quick ripping down, which would have perhaps been easier. It is slow. On purpose, slow. Pulling them down gradually, inch by inch, his eyes on mine, watching my reactions as he bares me bit by bit. My intimate place is exposed, and I feel the cool air on the wetness of me. Then my thighs, and then they are off, and I am fully naked.

The thrilling, wild fear burns in me like a wildfire—I shake with it, tremble with fear and excitement. I am aroused—wet and hot between my thighs. When my jeans and panties are gone and set aside, he tears his eyes from mine and looks at me. There are no shadows to hide me, and I fight the urge to cover my privates from his eyes. I do not. I swallow hard, and the flare of hunger in his eyes as he takes in my nakedness is enough to erase my fear.

And then, he kisses me. Navel first. Hipbone. Thigh. Other thigh, opposite hipbone. His big strong hands clutch at my thighs, fingers dimpling the muscle and flesh. Lips moving, kissing, tongue sliding on skin. I gasp, and then blow out the breath shakily.

He touches me there, first. His fingers, two of them, index and middle, trace down through my black curls and touch me. I whimper. He moves down, his broad shoulders forcing my thighs apart. He is petting me, there. Down through the curls, over the flesh. Stroking, brushing. And then parting the lips, and pushing a finger in, into my wetness. I gasp again, watching him touch me, watching his mouth kiss the divot where my inner thigh becomes my hip. So close, so intimate, I cannot breathe.

“Watch, Anjalee,” he tells me.

I do not know when my eyes closed, but I force my eyes open again. “I am watching.”

“Ready?”

I frown. “Ready for what, Kane?”

He lifts my thighs onto his shoulders, and his lips ghost across the tender silk of my upper, inner thighs. “Forthis.”

His mouth covers my sex.

The sound I make, then, isshocked. A stunned, breathless, high-pitched breath out. “Kane!”

His tongue parts my seam, and he licks me. Licks the wetness seeping out from within me. I cannotbelievehe would do this; I am shocked insensible. And…it feels—there are no words for how it feels. Strange, incredible, beautiful, forbidden. All of these are true. I cannot name the feelings, I can only feel them. My feet wander across his back, crossing together over his shoulder blades—opening my thighs, opening myself for his hungry, greedy mouth.

He is not just kissing me, he isdevouringme, as if he has never eaten and I am his only meal. Tongue, lips, all over me. Fingers moving into me, tongue circling that magical place where he touched me and sent the lightning through me.

Now, with his mouth there, it isn’t only lightning, it is…the sun itself. I shake, belly sucking in, expanding, tightening, hollowing. My hips lift, pushing my center harder into his mouth. I grip his shoulders, but that is not enough. I knot my hands in his hair and I am not embarrassed to say that I hold his face to me, so he cannot stop. He does not intend to stop, however, it is very clear.