“Not a snake,” she quickly agreed, looking up at him. God, his cheekbones looked amazing in the moonlight. She’d forgotten how incredibly sexy Dane was, how much looking at him made her wet with excitement.
“Does the skin burn?”
Oh, absolutely. Her hand pressed over his where it rested on her flat stomach, just above her belly button.
His fingers brushed against her stomach, sending a pulse of heat through her body. His whisper grew intimate, as if the fact that he was touching her and they were very, very alone had suddenly occurred to him. “I don’t feel anything, Miranda.”
“It’s lower,” she lied, her eyes watching his moonlit face, waiting to see if he’d take the bait. They stood so close together that she could feel his warm breath on her neck.
Dane paused for a long, long moment, and then gave her a knowing look. “Lower?”
She nodded, not trusting her voice. Touch me, she wanted to whisper. Please. Everything hinges on you touching me.
His fingers brushed at her waistband. “Lower?”
“Yes,” she said. Her hand clutched at his shirt as she waited.
He looked up at her and his hand moved boldly down her belly. His hand slid into her shorts. “Where are your panties?”
“Some guy cut them off of me earlier,” she said, her voice husky.
His hand skimmed past the curls of her sex and slipped between the folds of her pu**y in a sudden move that had her gasping.
“Down here?” he asked in a husky voice. “Is this where you’re burning? Because you’re certainly wet.” His fingers brushed against her clit and her body stiffened in a hot rush of desire. He rubbed the slick bud with his fingertips. “I’m starting to think you haven’t been bitten at all.”
She clung to his shoulders, her fingernails digging into his skin as his hand flexed in her shorts, small gasps erupting from her throat. “You—you have me all figured out, it seems,” she managed to whisper, the whisper turning into a whimper as his clever fingers gave her clit another stroke. Her head tilted back and she leaned against the tree, her hips bucking against his hand. Oh my God. That was so good. If he could just keep touching her there—
His hand started to pull away and she gave a small cry, her hand moving down to rest over his.
“What are you playing at, Miranda?” he said low in her ear, his face pressing against her neck. He didn’t move his hand from her hot, wet sex, but his fingers had stopped their rubbing of that most delicious of spots.
She could have wept in disappointment.
He stared down at her, his gaze intense. “Is this some sort of trick?”
“Trick? No,” she said, tilting her face toward his. “I’m just…I…”
What could she tell him that he would possibly believe? The words froze in her mouth. His lips were inches away from hers and she longed to move her face closer to his, kiss him, feel that tongue stroke into her mouth in each conquering sweep. But his lips were firm and hard with anger. He wouldn’t kiss her back.
“Then why don’t you tell me what’s going on? You’ve been after me ever since we laid eyes on each other, Miranda. And while I’m flattered, I have to wonder what your game is.”
Shit. Well, okay, maybe she was being obvious—too obvious.
She stared up at him, acutely aware of his hand still down her shorts. One nice squirm and she bet she could get his fingers to brush against her clit again—but how humiliating would that be? To try and get off against a man who wasn’t responding?
So she took a deep breath and pulled her hand off of his, placing it on his T-shirt. That wasn’t much better—she could feel the finely corded ropes of muscle in his arms, and that made her think of his hand down her shorts all over again. She was getting wetter just thinking about it. “I…”
His fingers twitched against her clit, a little prompting motion, and he leaned in toward her, pinning her between his hard body and the tree. “Well?”
“I…um…” She stalled, thinking hard. Then she bit her lip and confessed the truth—or at least part of it. “I can’t have an orgasm.”
That was clearly not the answer he’d been expecting. He frowned down at her, and then his fingers gave a little swirling motion against her clit, eliciting another shuddering gasp from her. “Really? Because you seem to be responding to my touch pretty well.”
His voice has dipped husky again, and she could have celebrated. He was listening to what she had to say. She fought a surge of excitement.
Her fingers dug into his shoulders again and she gave a little trembling gasp when he slid a finger farther down, away from her clit. One thick digit brushed against the opening of her sex. Her knees threatened to collapse. “I can’t have an orgasm. With a man. In bed.”
She was finding it hard to concentrate, his finger making small little circles against the opening of her sex, where she was wettest, tickling her in the most erotic fashion.
He leaned even closer to her, her br**sts pressing against his chest, and she lifted her face to his, startled to see his face looming so close that she could practically see beard stubble. His lips were close to her own. “Women, then?”
“What? No.” Her hips rocked against his hand and she whimpered. It was so hard to concentrate.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean…I can’t shut my brain off during sex. And when I heard you were back in town, I remembered…”
“That night in the closet?” he said huskily. “Back at graduation?”
She flinched, thinking of the camera.
“I remember that,” he said in a low rumble, and his mouth dipped against her neck, pressing a light kiss there. “How my hand had been on you, just like this, and you came all over my fingers.”
She shuddered at that, pleasure washing over her. “I remember that,” she murmured.
“You didn’t have a problem coming apart in my arms then,” he said, and his finger slipped deep inside her, giving a gentle thrust.
“I know,” she said, her breathing coming hard and fast. She wanted to lift her leg around his hips, to grind her hips against his hand, to do…something. But she was pinned between him and the tree. “But that was a long time ago. I’ve had—trouble—since then.”
Trouble was putting it mildly. More like counting tiles on the ceiling while her boyfriend of the moment tried unsuccessfully to elicit a reaction from her.