Good Vibrations (Welcome to Paradise) Read Online Free Page A

and to him. His tongue is gentle, unlike when his lips first took possession of mine.
    I let my hands roam up his shoulders and toward the back of his neck and push my fingers into his incredibly sexy hair. Just from the little kissing we've done, I don't want to leave him either, now sympathizing with the girl at the airport. I open my eyes to sneak a peek at the Sex God I'm making out with and am once again beaten to the punch. His eyes, though hooded with desire, are already watching me. Clamping them shut again, I moan. "Oh, Evan." Wait, what? Where'd that come from?
    He takes that as a sign to continue, which makes me realize how much I want this to happen—how much I need this to happen. It's been too long and… well damn, look at him. His face alone turns me on, so I start to appreciate it with my mouth. I hear him groan internally and I can't help smiling again at the carnal pleasure I derive from that sound.
    Kissing down my neck, he stops and asks, "What? What are you smiling about?"
    I sigh, answering him despite the sex drunk state I'm currently in. "This feels so good."
    A smile flashes across his face before exploring my jaw with his mouth, leaving a wet trail across my skin. "This?"
    " Um , yeah, that."
    He reaches the base of my neck, and his warm tongue traces the curve of my collar bone. "How about this?" he asks.
    I nod enough to encourage him to slide his hands down my body as he continues his kissing journey. Even though I’m taking all he's giving, I still want more.
    "And this?" he asks, teasing with the tip of his tongue flexed flat on my skin.
    I don't even bother with an answer because my body's response is answer enough. His hand slides between my legs and rubs roughly up and down, twice, before leaving me well bothered and craving more.
    His words are just a whisper, his breath hot against my ear. "What about—"
    " Yes! Jesus! Evan, right there, especially there !" My voice is screechy, not even recognizable to me. The word wanton comes to mind.
    " Okay , settle down. I was just asking," he says, but I can hear the playfulness in his tone.
    My hands work their way down his backside, his muscles flexing under my touch. I take the open invitation and squeeze his ass. Oh good lord, why'd I do that? It's fantastic, hard and rounded. Images of seeing it move up and down as we have sex fuels a surge of ultimate boldness.
    My words sound more like a demand than a request. "Take off your shirt." Maybe they are.
    His lips stop on my cheek, his hands pause on my waist just under my shirt, and he leans back away from me. With a furrowed brow, he asks, "What kind of guy do you take me for, Mallory?"
    "I'm hoping a guy who can back up that bad boy reputation you’ve worked so hard to create."
    His hand graces my face and he places a sweet kiss on my forehead. "Oh, baby, I can back it up. Don't you worry your little cotton panties about that. But, I'm a firm believer in ladies first ."
    His cockiness is growing on me and I'm starting to think he probably can back it up. His hands reach the bottom hem of my shirt and he starts slowly pulling it up, never losing eye contact.
    It’s too slow for how much I’m revved up. Feeling confident, I take the shirt into my own hands, lift it over my head, and toss it onto a nearby chair. In these situations, which hasn’t been many times, I usually hide a little, but I don’t want to here. He allows me to feel good about my body. I’m fit, not an athlete and there’s a softness to my curves.
    He quickly follows, lifting his shirt off and tossing it to the floor. His abs are not bulky like bodybuilders. His are defined and strong, more natural in form, probably from sports and a healthy lifestyle. I run my fingers over his stomach again as he kisses me with passion. If I allow myself, I might venture to say it's laced with deeper developing emotions.
    We continue with our lips freely occupying the others and our hands deceptively close to operating on their own