Chapter Thirty-Two

Chris could feel Daphne's pulse jump beneath his fingers.

"I don't know how you're going to draw bigger tits for me," she said.

"Your tits are perfect," he said. "But if you're ever struggling with your self-confidence, try walking around shirtless like I do. It really helps."

She reached down to the hem of her shirt, her arms crossed as she pulled it over her head, the action mussing up her curls. He smoothed them out, giving one a tug as he dragged his finger down her cheek, her throat, the top swells of her breasts over her lacy red bra.

"You'll probably need to remove this, too," he said. "To give me more to work with."

She rolled her eyes, like he was being ridiculous, but he heard the ragged hitch in her breath after she'd unclasped her bra and let it fall to the floor. For a minute he just allowed himself to look at her.

Her skin was flawless. He could already hear her protest, if he told her that. She'd point to every single freckle and say flaw, flaw, flaw. But he loved her freckles. He loved the way her nipples tilted up, the faint stretch marks at the sides of her breasts, the way she fit his hands perfectly. Sometimes when he touched her he felt like he could die, and that would be all right.

"Now let's see," he said, assessing her with an exaggerated expression of intense concentration. "I think if I…" He braced one hand against her rib cage, using the marker to drag a curved line from one freckle to another on her breast. "…can just…" He connected two more freckles, then went outside the lines a little bit to preserve the shape he was creating. "…There we go."

He capped the marker up, sitting back to survey his work, and she looked down at herself to check it out. "It's a heart," she said.

A slightly lopsided heart. He'd been trying to stay as true to the freckle map as he could. Suddenly he felt self-conscious, like that was his heart he'd drawn right on her skin.

"It'll wash off," he said.

Daphne leaned forward to press a kiss against his lips. "I love it."

She'd clearly meant it to be quick, more a punctuation mark to her approval than anything else, but he slid his hand along her jaw and up into her hair, holding her there while he deepened the kiss. She opened her mouth with a little moan, a hungry sound that shot straight to his cock. Suddenly if he didn't touch her, he would die.

He pulled her onto his lap so she was straddling him, holding her hips down to grind her against his erection. He knew she could feel it, even through the fabric of their clothes, because he heard her sharp intake of breath when he thrust his own hips up into her.

"I could come just from this," he said, kissing down her throat.

"This?" she teased, rubbing against him back and forth, back and forth, until he bit out a curse, cupping his hands beneath her ass and lifting her up to her knees. From that vantage point, her breasts were right in his face, and he rubbed his cheek against her nipple, feeling it rub and drag beneath his skin. He caught her nipple in his mouth, sucking, scraping his teeth along that tight little bud until her fingers dug into his shoulders.

Even that little heart was erotic to him, the black outline a reminder of the secret privilege of seeing her like this, her head thrown back, her lips parted, her nipples wet from where he'd had them in his mouth.

"Let's get you out of these," he said, rolling her shorts down her hips, picking up one knee, then the other, to tug them down her calves. She had to finish the job herself in an awkward contortion of her body, and she came back to him, laughing.

God, I love you. It was an odd moment for him to have that thought, maybe, but it shot through him with a jolt. It left him stunned, caught out, temporarily incapable of speech or movement.

Daphne hitched her thumbs into her underwear, starting to drag them down, too, but he recovered sufficiently to shake his head. "Leave it," he said. "I want you just like this."

Her panties were red, clearly a matching set with the bra, and he liked the idea that maybe she'd worn them just for him. That she'd gotten ready to come over tonight knowing full well that at some point they'd be stripped down just like this, exploring each other's bodies, and he'd like what he saw. He did like it. He wanted to let her know how much, even as he swallowed down any declaration of love that was building up in his chest. There would be a time for that, but it wasn't now.

He ran his hands down her back, all the way down until he hooked his fingers inside her underwear to squeeze right where the bottom of her ass met the tops of her thighs. He already knew it was a sensitive spot for her, and he was rewarded by the way she arched her back, her sternum pressing into his nose. Even the smell of her got him impossibly hard.

He kissed her belly, then licked, wanting to taste the salt of her skin. He wanted to taste her everywhere.

"Daphne," he breathed against her stomach. "Please."

She held his face in her hands, holding him in place. "Please what?"

"Please let me taste you. I want to feel you come on my tongue."