CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO.
He raised his face, all displeased. "Why would I ever think that? Your body, soul, and smile defile the nature of beauty. You are literally perfect."
"Remember the times you told me that I don't entice you? Seems that changed."
"You are different from so many people I have come in contact with, men and women. You are just interesting." More to himself, he said, "Night and day, I can't get you out of my mind."
Natasha got jealous, imagining him with sophisticated beauties round about him. That feeling was short-lived—because he moved his attention to her breasts. Cupping them from the bottom, he nearly circled them with his big hands.
Avoiding her nipples, he kneaded with a practiced touch that was just mildly rough. But Natasha loved it, arching to him.
Again and again, he palmed her, plumping the mounds until the rest of her body begged for contact—which he seemed determined to withhold.
"Why are you playing with me?"