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Her life was confined in a tight little box but the moment Grace Delaney and Ben Lowell met the box collapsed and her life was never the same.

Sometimes, especially when she was reading one of her new erotic romances, her hand would steal to her warm flesh, feel the dripping moisture in her cunt and like now she’d rub her clit until she finally climaxed.
Melanie had finally talked her into buying herself some battery-operated friends but she didn’t exactly carry one around in her purse. Why should she? This was private, in the secrecy of her home.
Over the years she’d reached a point where suppressing her sexual urges had made her uptight and edgy but nothing had ever brought her to her current state of arousal. Just looking at Ben, listening to him, sent her hormones racing around her body at an unfamiliar speed.
Her hand moved in the familiar rhythm as she spread her thighs and gave in to the need driving her. When a large, warm hand covered hers and moved over the mound of her cunt with her she was so startled she almost stopped breathing.
“You should have joined me in the shower.” Ben’s gravelly voice was soft against her ear and his warm breathe tickled her skin. “And here I had this big seduction scene all planned.”
“Oh! My god!” Heat bloomed in her face and panic tripled her heart rate. How much more embarrassed could she be?
She tried to jerk her hand away but Ben closed his fingers over it.
“Don’t be embarrassed. I like to watch a woman touch herself.” He paused. “The right woman. I’ll bet this would feel a lot better without all these clothes on, sugar.”
“Ben, I—”
“Come on.”
He tugged her up from the chair where she was sitting. That was when she realized he was wearing only a bath towel knotted at the waist.
“You’re… You’re not…”
He grinned at her. “I forgot to bring clean clothes into the bathroom with me. I thought I’d sneak out and get them but the image that greeted me was more than I could stand.”
His warm fingers were opening first one button, then another on her shirt. He stared at the swell of her breasts for a long moment, hunger sparking in his eyes, before he lifted his hands to cup her face.
“I know you’ll taste real good, Grace. Real good.”
I have to get out of here. What am I thinking? Grace Delaney doesn’t do this. I’m not sure I even know how. Oh, god, oh god. Brain, engage and let me think.
But her brain had shut down for the night. And Ben, it seemed, was a man with a plan. Letting her pull away from him didn’t seem to be part of it. His lips brushed across hers as gently as a bird’s wing, pressing so lightly she wasn’t even sure of the contact. The tip of his tongue traced the outline of her mouth, licking the corners and tasting the surface of her lips. His taste was like warm honey and when she opened her mouth on a soft sigh his tongue moved inside in a graceful slide.
Yes, warm honey, she thought. Then every inhibition, every defense she’d carefully built up over the years crumbled like bleu cheese. She gave herself over to the heat coursing through her as the surface of his tongue coaxed hers into a sensual dance, twisting and twining with it, while his gentle calloused hands cradled her face. Her breath was clogged in her throat and her pulse was beating like the wings of a drunken butterfly. He took the kiss so deep, tasting every inner surface of her mouth and enticing her to do the same with him, that she was sure she was drowning in it.
He tasted like mint toothpaste and smelled of soap and just like earlier in the day, his clean male scent made her senses reel. When his tongue began to retreat from her mouth she closed her teeth over it, lightly, unwilling to lose the intimate contact. He was pure sin, invading every inch of her body and she didn’t want him ever to stop kissing her like this. Not ever.
She gripped his wrists to steady herself, acutely aware of the fine, silken hair on his skin. At last he lifted his head but he didn’t move away. Instead his mouth trailed across her cheek and the tip of his tongue licked the sensitive spot behind one ear, drawing feathery little circles. Shivers skipped along her spine and plucked at her skin.
His lips moved along the edge of her collarbone, nipping here and there, pausing at the hollow of her throat where her pulse was beating so hard she was afraid it would burst through the thin layer of skin. Then down, down, down to the swell of her breasts, his tongue like a flaming icicle, hot and cold, skimming across the surface.
“I want to feel your naked skin,” he murmured as he slid his hands down to her shirt, her fingers still wrapped around his wrists.
Grace felt the pin almost glowing against her body through the fabric, tendrils of heat emanating straight to the hungry flesh of her cunt. She hardly realized it when Ben deftly slid his hands from her grip, finished unbuttoning her blouse and eased it down her arms. She was drifting in a fog of arousal, heading to a place she’d never been before, half lustful, half scared.
His mouth was on her again, drugging her so she didn’t even feel him unclasp her bra. She was only aware of it when cool air drifted over her heated skin and his lips closed around one hard, pebbled nipple demanding to be sucked. His tongue flicked over it, then pressed it against the roof of his mouth, trapping it in his warm heat. His teeth raked gently over the beaded nub before he drew it into his mouth again, then blew a soft stream of air over the wet flesh.
She shuddered, unconsciously cupping her breasts and lifting them to him. His moan of satisfaction echoed through her, raising the level of her need even more. A piece of her brain tried to pull her back from a deep well of sensuality.
What am I doing what am I doing what am I doing?