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He kissed her neck down to the slope of her shoulder. He licked the hollow of her throat, and lying between her legs, he felt her thighs tighten around him in need.
They hadn’t talked much the last time, but now he wanted nothing more than to hear her voice. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.”
Her words were a hoarse murmur. “Touch me.”
He trailed his fingers to the tip of her breast, circled the tight bead until she gasped. “Taste me.”
Then she pushed him, her hand on the back of his head, guiding him down to where she wanted him. And that was something totally new as well. Before, she hadn’t told him what she wanted, either with words or actions—but then, he hadn’t asked.
“Anything you want.” He looked up at her as he moved down her body. “Everything you want.”
He closed his lips around the pearl of her breast, sucking her into his mouth, worrying her with his tongue until she writhed beneath him.
She gasped. “Dane, please.”
As he spread her pajama top wide, he moved to the other peak, taking it deep, reveling in her breathy whisper of his name. Twelve years ago, there’d been no names, and it had been freaking sexy. But this was so much hotter. And he was so much harder.
“Every inch of you,” he whispered.
He tasted, licked, caressed all that beautiful, smooth, delicate skin, from her breasts all the way to her belly button, where a gentle lick made her laugh.
Her laugh could make a man lose everything.
Then he reached the tie of her pajama bottoms. And he looked at her.
He hadn’t asked permission last time. And he didn’t need it now—at least, not the words—because her scent told him how ready she was. But he wanted her to ask. He needed to know they were in this together.
“Tell me what you want.” Shifting slightly to the side, he laid his hand just above her sex.
“I want you to pleasure me. I want it so badly,” she said on a shaky breath. Then, on a whimper of need, she added, “If you don’t do it, I’ll have to do it myself.”
Amazing visions floated through his mind, of her dreaming of him, of all those nights when she’d been just down the hall from him. Of her needing him, imagining that it was his touch on her body. Of her crying out his name.
He should have known, should have felt the power of her thoughts. Maybe he had. Maybe that’s why he dreamed of her every night. Yes, every single damned night since she’d come to work for him. Even if he’d told himself it couldn’t possibly be that often.
He slid off the bed, kneeling between her spread thighs as Cammie propped herself on her elbows to look at him.
She hadn’t watched all those years ago. She’d loved it, lost herself in it, but she hadn’t watched. And there was something so hot about her gaze on him now, something so erotic.
He slowly drew the polar bear pajamas down her legs, throwing them aside until only her panties remained. The damp patch between her legs beckoned him, and instead of tearing them off, he leaned over her, breathed warm air on the fabric, covered her with his mouth. She ground against him, and he took her that way, right through her panties, reveling in her taste, her scent, her moisture, her heat.
As sweet she’d been then, she was sweeter now. As wet as she’d been then, she was wetter now. As hot as she’d been, she was on fire now.
He couldn’t wait another moment. Ripping the panties off her, he took her with his lips and his tongue the way he’d dreamed of so many times.
* * *
Cammie cried out his name the moment his mouth found her and his tongue delved deep.
He’d been so good before—no one had ever been better. His touch had burned itself into her brain. His taste had lived inside her, his scent filling her head whenever she closed her eyes and thought of that night.
But his mouth on her now was like nothing she’d ever felt before. Maybe it was all the years she’d dreamed of it. Wanted it. Needed it. He clamped his big warm hands on her derriere and lifted her so he could taste more and more of her.
And she watched, relishing the sight of his dark head between her thighs, his closed eyes as he drank her in, his powerful shoulders spreading her thighs wide. Entering her with two blunt fingers, he flipped her world upside down. Just the right touch. So perfect. So—oh my God—
His mouth buried against her, he opened those blue, blue eyes.
And she exploded, crying out his name, chanting, “Dane, Dane, Dane.”
She’d made sounds for him before, moans, groans, sighs, but now, with his mouth on her, his fingers inside her, his tongue playing her, her cries slammed up into the ceiling, raining down on her again.
