Leaving Normal Stef Holm (classic literature books TXT) 📖

Explosive currents raced through her, a drugging sensuousness that gave her courage to let herself go. Be herself.

The kiss sent fire through her blood. Its mood changed from sweetly soft to devouring, urgent, exploring.

She felt his body flex, perhaps an involuntary response.

Her head rose; she gazed into his eyes. He had a mask of control on his face.

Spoken with resonant tightness, he said, "I want you, but I want more than you just for the night. You know that."

"Yes. But I can't promise anything but right here and right now."

"I understand. That still doesn't change the way I feel."

"I know."

She didn't want to argue the point with him, nor try and reason. She just wanted. Wanted him.

Maybe it was stupid to dust details under the rug, but she'd never felt this desired or felt this excited to be with someone.

Sharp need rose through her. She trembled for him to touch her, to fit himself inside her heat. She imagined locking her legs around his waist, taking every inch of him and having him fill her up and move steadily within her.

He was gorgeous. Just looking at him could suck the breath right out of her.

Getting off the bed, she stood, knowing what she was about to do.

Her heart slammed hard into her ribs as she unhooked her bra and discarded it. The skimpy pink panties were slid down her thighs, passed over her knees and calves and pooled on the floor at her ankles. As she stepped out of the satin puddle, her chin lifted higher.

Breath caught in her throat, almost solidifying and causing her to become dizzy.

An endless heartbeat stretched between them.

She stood naked, not daring to lower her gaze to herself without the cover of clothing. She already knew what he saw.

The skin on her body was an ivory tone, her breasts a creamy white, the nipples rosy pink. She didn't want to think about the two scars. They unsettled her, made her feel less attractive. She would have preferred to leave the bra on. That's why she'd bought such a pretty one.

Her pulse raced in her throat. She wouldn't speak.

Tony got off the bed, came to stand by her.

"Undress me."

She almost stammered that she couldn't. In that brief second when time ticked off, she realized she'd never undressed a man before. Wasn't that strange… she honestly never had.

The challenge of doing so gave her confidence.

She reached out for the tiny buttons of his shirt and started at the top. First one, then the second until the bottom. The fabric was soft, a brushed cotton. The rich blue color looked good against his skin. As the material parted under her touch, she spanned her hands across the T-shirt covering his chest. She thought it was black. Too dim in the room to tell. It had a V-neck.

Slowly peeling the shirt away from his body, she bunched the T-shirt in her hands and began to lift. Tony's arms rose to accommodate her and with a tug, the T-shirt was off. She tossed it to the floor.

Gazing at him shirtless was divine ecstasy. His body was even better than she had envisioned.

Every plane and valley, every surface of skin was toned and ripped. Muscle defined him, the hard slabs rippling slightly as he breathed.

"I'll bet you could carry a refrigerator out of a burning building," she caught herself saying. The comment was sublime, dumb, but uttered just the same.

"Never had to," he replied, his voice deep in the dark recesses of the room. "Don't think I ever will."

The muted softness of his laughter curled around her.

She licked her lips, extended her hands to the button fly of his jeans. She flicked the metal button open, then dragged the zipper down.

Her knees went weak as he leaned in and gave her a . kiss on the side of the neck. Shivers cascaded through her body, a shudder held her in its grip.

She couldn't quite manage to get his jeans off his hips. He helped, then stepped out of the faded denim. He wore cotton briefs, the kind that went down his thighs. That thin knit fabric cupped and hugged, leaving nothing to her imagination.

He was thick and large.

She never doubted he wouldn't be. But seeing for herself, emotions whorled and skidded.

She'd never been with anyone like him before.

"I don't think I can take off the rest," she said, half the words lodged in her throat.

Tony removed the briefs, tossed them aside.

They were naked before one another. The heat of his exposed body reached out to her skin, seared her flesh beyond measure.

He reached out, traced his fingertip over her parted lips, slowly down the side of her neck and to her collarbone. Then lower across the swell of her right breast…then lower. To the two scars.

An involuntary reaction caused her to tightly grip his wrist, trying to stop him.

She had no more effect on stopping him than she would a freight train.

He met her directly in the eye and tenderly urged, "Don't."

"It looks ugly."

"Don't," he repeated. "Nothing on you looks ugly. You're beautiful."

The hot sting of tears threatened. Not out of sadness or embarrassment, but out of a deep-seated emotional state.

She released him, stood tense and expectant.

His thumb and forefinger touched her nipple, gently pinched and aroused. She grabbed his marble-smooth shoulders to steady herself, to give her strength.

He spent a long time touching, exploring the fullness of her breasts, creating gooseflesh across her skin, causing her nipples to ache, to tighten into hard peaks. He ran his hands down her stomach and hips. Then to the juncture of her legs.

His fingers covered her, one slipped inside.

Her legs almost buckled.

He must have known she couldn't support herself. He took her to the bed, laid her down and lay beside her.

"Touch me," he whispered.

For all her courage under fire at work, at life, in dealing with Greg and the variety of other hurdles she'd overcome, touching Tony in the way he was asking took every fragment of her resolve. It wasn't as