His mouth nudged hers once, twice, then opened over hers, and Sydney was lost. They’d waited so long to taste each other with nothing and no one between them. When he lifted his head, she nearly cried out a protest. But the look of dark intent he wore shuddered through her, made her weak and glad for the strength of him and his resolution. He knew exactly what he was doing, what they both wanted, and no conversation or questions were necessary. He grasped her waist, lifted and settled her on the counter top. His hooded gaze never strayed from her face as the sound of her boot zippers rent the silence. He never spoke as he drew the boots from her feet and tossed them aside so they thudded somewhere across the kitchen. Next came her socks, then his warm touch on her ankles. Cool air slid across her skin as he lifted one of her bare feet against his hard belly and caressed the top of it with both hands. She watched the drop of his dark head as he focused on what he was doing to her, the faint lifting and lowering of his lashes, before she realized that she could touch him, too, some irreverent part of him the way he was caressing her.
