Arlene was shocked by her own bold and shameless behavior. But the need to touch flesh to flesh, to feel Peter moving against her was compulsiveit was how she had always imagined drug addiction would be like. She pressed closer, the warm skin of his neck calling to her. Rubbing her cheek against the bare skin at his collar, she inhaled his scent. The power of that masculine perfume sending a shockwave down between her breasts, over her clenched stomach and right to the spot between her legs. God, she wanted him.
He moved, and she felt his arousal bulging beneath his pants. She tightened her grip on him with her legs, the roughness of his pants against her sensitive skin made a small moan escape her lips. She wanted to rub on him, squirm on his lap and run her teeth down the skin of his neck. Such crazy, slutty thoughts brought heat to her cheeks, but it was a wildness in her blood that exaltedlaughed.
"I'm sorry," she said, trying to gather up the shreds of her self-control. "I don't know what's come over me." But her mouth curved in a feral smile. "I just want to eat you up." She laughed. "Am I insane? Have I gone mad?"
Peter put a large, calloused hand underneath her bare bottom and stood up. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. "Arlene, there's nothing you should apologize for," he said with kindness in his pale-blue eyes. His black hair fell in soft waves around her arms, like a curtain of silk. It was something she would have thought of as feminine, but there was nothing womanly about Peter. His exotic face was lined with tension, and his soft lips were so close to hers, she nearly kissed them without thinking.
He stood there, hands on her taut flesh, and seemed to be lost as well. A muscle jumped in his cheek, and his eyes grew lustful. His breath caressed her face as he leaned closer. He was going to kiss her. She almost cried in relief.