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would still feel different.
    His hands were busy at her back, unhooking her bra and then pulling it from her body. This time he stopped kissing her long enough to look.
    And, man, did he make looking feel like another form of foreplay.
    His gaze roamed over her and everywhere it touched, goose bumps of desire formed on her skin. She was shivering uncontrollably by the time he reached out to gently ruffle the damp curls between her legs.
    Hair was sensitive. She hadn’t known that, but the light touch went all the way to her core.
    She shuddered. “That feels good.”
    “It gets better.”
    She didn’t doubt it.
    He was leaning over her when he slipped his forefinger between the very slick lips of her vulva and pressed against her straining clitoris. Minishocks went all along her body. It was so incredibly intimate.
    An intimacy she hadn’t trusted to other men and maybe that’s what made her body ultrasensitive, but she felt on the verge of climax and he’d barely touched her.
    His finger moved just so, this way and that, a circle here…a dip there, pressing in and releasing the pressure, each tiny movement bringing impossible pleasure closer and closer. It didn’t happen like this.
    She knew her own body.
    Climax took effort, but his touch was drawing forth a response she hadn’t known she was capable of.
    And then she was arching off the bed, screaming as she had the first orgasm sparked by another person in her life. His hand rubbed, drawing out the pleasure until she grabbed his wrist and begged him to stop. He did, keeping his hand there, cupped protectively over her mound.
    Her eyes had shut with the first convulsion and now she opened them, wondering how he was going to react to a woman who came before they’d even gotten serious about foreplay.
    He looked stunned and…very pleased.
    “You’re amazing, Bella.”
    She licked her lips. They were so dry. So was her throat.
    “I’m thirsty,” she croaked.
    He reached out and brushed her cheek. “I’ll get you something.”
    He came back seconds later with a glass of water and she drank it down like a frat boy guzzling beer. She’d never been so thirsty. Some of the water spilled and he leaned forward to lick it up, but once his tongue touched her chest, they both forgot the water.
    The empty glass tumbled from her hand as she fell back against the bed, unbelievably excited again by the rasping of his tongue against one turgid nipple.
    “Jake, please…”
    He lifted his head. “What do you want, baby?”
    “I don’t know.” Yes, she did. “I want to touch you.”
    His eyes widened like she’d surprised him, but he shook his head. “If I let you touch me now, I’m going to come before I ever get inside you.”
    “Oh, no!” she wailed, remembering something insurmountable. “You can’t come inside me. I’m not on the pill.”
    She wanted to cry. She wanted to throw things.
    She wanted—
    “I’ve got condoms.”
    “You do?” Of course he did. He wasn’t a twenty-six-year-old virgin and pathetically unprepared to change that status.
    “Yeah.” He smiled, looking smug again. “I’m even wearing one. Didn’t you notice?”
    She hadn’t, but she looked now.
    His big erection was covered in an almost transparent layer of protection. He must have put it on when he went into the bathroom to get her a glass of water.
    She threw her arms around his neck and started kissing him, filled with gratitude for his forethought and a heady dose of excitement. He responded with all the enthusiasm she could want, his mouth opening, letting her tongue inside.
    Oh, man, he tasted good. She’d French-kissed men before. She’d even enjoyed it, but never like this.
    He tasted like he belonged to her and even if that was an illusion, she liked it.
    She kept kissing him, running her hands up and down his body, touching him everywhere she could reach. He jumped when she touched the back of his scrotum between his legs, then he thrust his body toward her,