Taryn Elliott Quotes

Instead of relying on technique she looked for cues that were individual to the man - her man - the quickening of his breath, a sighing moan and the grip of his fingertips on her hip. Her body listened to his and learned what was right instead of what her experience said should work. And in its place they became a dreamy roll of fluid exploration.

A long, low moan reverberated through her chest and into him. He sucked harder, flicking his tongue around the tiny pink tip. She was in the shadows cast by the late-day sun, leaving him little choice but to learn her by touch. He found the water-soft curve of her breast, running his tongue along the heaviest part of her until she filled his mouth. "More," he murmured, shifting her higher until his teeth scraped along her ribs.

His hair was especially mussed. So much so that her fingertips tingled with the need to grab and plunder the curls and let her mouth work the wicked quirk of his lips that verged on a smile. But it was his eyes that hit her the hardest. A settled gray that would forever be stamped Happy Place in her mind.

He cupped her cheek, the muscles of his forearm burning with the slow thrusts inside her. "You're beautiful." Unable to have even a few inches between them, he caught her mouth, swallowing her moans. Cheek to cheek, he dragged in her scent. Murmuring her name, he held her as she broke.

She twisted her hips in time to his rhythm, riding his hand. He couldn't stop himself from dipping inside her heat, groaning when she coated his fingers, his palm - just, God, he wanted all that around him again.

He was her worst nightmare and fondest wish all wrapped up in a damn Boy Scout.

If he could bottle her strength
and vitality, he would. He would take everything that
was Tessa and lock it into a corner of his heart, to take
out when the emptiness got too overwhelming.