When Good Things Happen To Bad Boys. Lori Foster
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Her breasts were firm and soft, her nipples already painfully tight. He wanted to see her. He wanted to suck on her and hear her moan and see her writhing in excitement.
Axel moved to the side of her, ran his hand down to her waist, and traced a teddy bear with his fingertip. “Let’s get rid of this, okay?”
She bit her lip, then nodded. “You swear you won’t be thinking anything medical?”
“I promise it’ll be the furthest thing from my mind.” He put his hand on her thigh and slowly dragged the thin cotton nightshirt up, up, up, until he could see her sheer panties and her dark pubic hair beneath. His control slipped.
Pausing, he bent, kissed her flat belly, a hipbone, then pressed his mouth to those glossy dark curls.
Libby drew in a deep, broken breath.
In no hurry, Axel inhaled the spicy scent of her—and growled in response. He couldn’t wait to taste all of her, to hear her scream again with a climax, and most of all, to sink into her tight and hot and his alone.
A dangerous thought—but undeniable all the same. She would be his, at least for now. And damn it, he liked that idea.
He liked it a lot.
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