Page 35 of Risks of Temptation

"Should I move up?"

Don't freak out. Don't freak out. Don't freak out.

My chest tightens. "Umm..."

"Do you want to do it?"

"No. I... I want you to."

His thumbs circle near my belly button. "Tell me when you're ready."

Calm down. Nothing terrible is going to happen.

I can do this.

I stick my chin out. "I'm... I'm ready."

His hands move up. In a low voice, he talks in French near my ear. I only know bits and pieces of French, but I know he says the words beautiful and sexy, several times.

My chest rises and falls quickly. His warm hands caress the bottom then the top of my breasts.

I concentrate on the delicious way every word rolls off his tongue while digging my fingers into his thigh muscles. My lower body becomes a throbbing pool of desire.

I moan when his hands glide over my areolas. It's not loud, but it vibrates in the air and combines with his voice, as if in a song. I shiver when his fingers trace my already pebbled nipples, and his erection presses against my spine.

"Oh God," I whisper, stretching my neck against his chest and arching my back.

His fingers outline my nipples, and he says something else in French.

I whimper, my eyes still closed, my breath ragged, my skin scorching hot.

Please move one of your hands lower.

He slides his hands up to my shoulders. His lips brush against my cheek, and he says in English, "All done, ma belle."

It snaps me back to reality. Disappointment from the loss of his touch fills me. I slightly turn my head, staring into his gray eyes that are now almost blue.

I did it!

"Thank you," I tell him.

He says something in French, and my sex pulses again.

I don't ask him what he said. Something about the mystery of it is super sexy to me.

I stare at his lips. Please kiss me.

I wouldn't know what to do.

Maybe he can teach me?

That's the last thing a man like him wants is a naïve woman. He surely wants a woman who is experienced.

My self-confidence reminds me of who I am and what I don't know. I release his thighs and step forward. I pick up my bra, put it on, then my T-shirt. The entire time, he stares at me. I'm not facing him, but I can feel it.

I spin. "You know French."

His eyes twinkle. In French, he says several sentences while checking every part of my body and lingering on my breasts and sex.