Bit by bit, she relaxed within the circle of his arms. Sighed into his kiss and slipped her hands inside his jacket, her palms eagerly stroking his chest.

It was all the acquiescence he needed. At least for now. If he could touch her—stoke the embers that had burned between them from the very start—it would give him all the time he needed to teach her. To court her the way she deserved.

He covered one of her hands with his and forced himself to relinquish her mouth. “No more talking.” He lifted her hand and kissed her palm. “Not unless the words coming from your mouth are to ask me for more, or say my name when you come.”

Gaze rooted on the spot where he’d kissed on her hand, a tremor moved through her. “For a man who speaks English as a second language, you’re way too good with words.”

“Am I?” He tried to fight what he was sure was a devious smile, but it was pointless. His beast had had enough of waiting and wanting. He stepped backward, using his grip on her hand to pull her forward. “I seem to recall you were quite fond of my verbal skills in the bedroom.”

Another step.

Then another. Down the short hallway toward her room, all the while maintaining his hold on her hand.

“My oral skills, too.”

While she didn’t fight following where he led, her steps slowed, and the sway of her hips grew slightly more pronounced. Her lips curved in a sly grin, and her eyes sparked with fun and mischief. “I never said anything about your bedroom skills.”

“No? I could have sworn you commented on them.” Clear of the doorway and within a foot of her bed, he tugged her off balance and spun her so the back of her knees met the mattress. He stopped her momentum with a steady hand at her back. Only the glow from the lights in the living room and kitchen broke the darkness. “I guess I’ll have to a do a better job of making an impression tonight then, won’t I?”

Whether it was her gasp he stifled crushing his mouth to hers, or a clever retort, he couldn’t tell. He also wasn’t about to stop and find out. Her taste was too potent. Her passion and the greedy way her hands roamed his chest, belly and back too enticing to do anything but forge ahead.

He sampled the skin along her neck and peeled the delicate straps of her romper over her shoulders.

She shoved his jacket past his shoulders and threw it aside.

Her shoes.

His shirt.

Her romper, and his belt.

Every item that stood in their way went the way of the floor in a flurry of quick, impatient movements until all that was left were his pants and his briefs beneath.

He teased the line of her collarbone with his tongue and skimmed his hands from the tops of her thighs, over her hips to her waist. “Lie back for me. I want to see what’s mine.”