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Shoving his libido down, he focused instead on all the things that could go wrong. Even if she said yes, during the proposal, she’d probably change her mind after finding out her real name and that her ex-boyfriend was wanted or at least being investigated by the FBI. He was an idiot to imagine that just putting a ring on her finger could fix all of that – but, it didn’t matter. He’d be an idiot for her. He didn’t have a choice.
After the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and shaved. He put on his silk boxers, then picked up his shirt, but put it back on a whicker side chair. It was too hot.
He wondered if Bombshell was asleep. What if she wanted to make love? Would he tell her, the doctor said no? Merrick licked his lips. He wanted another drink, but the bar was back in the room. Maybe he should just stay in the bathroom until he knew she was asleep. He cupped his hand under running water and drank until his throat felt less dry. He dried his face with a hand towel, and hung it back on the ring.
Someone tried the door handle. Bombshell. His heart gave a lurch. “Merrick?” Her voice sounded concerned. “Are you alright in there?”
Merrick unlocked the bathroom door and opened it and his breath rushed out of his body. He stood there, transfixed by the sight of her. No longer was she wearing the heavy terry robe. She’d put on a slinky body hugging negligee made of snow-white silk. It was see-through, and he could see all of her magnificence.
Her head had fallen down to her chest and her thick raven hair fell in front of her face. He reached out a hand and tucked some of it behind her ear, and she shivered at his touch.
Merrick gulped.
She raised her head slightly, looking at him through tear swollen eyelids. “Merrick, do you still want me?”
“Oh, Bombshell, don’t cry.” He stepped towards her, embracing her, hugging her.
She wasn’t crying. She’d gone stiff in his arms.
“What is it?”
She shook her head, not wanting to say.
He put his hands on her shoulders and held her firm. Her head remained down as if in shame. He couldn’t understand it, he was the one to be ashamed. He put his index finger under her chin, lifting her head slowly, gently. As her head came up, her eyes remained cast down.
“Bombshell, what is it, speak to me.”
When her eyes finally opened, they searched deep into his soul. Each penetrating glance an attempt to strip him naked and leave him exposed.
He blinked, and looked away. He couldn’t lie to her anymore, but neither could he tell her the truth.
When he looked back at her, he saw hurt in her face. Did she know? “Bombshell, we shouldn’t do this.”
“Why not?” She asked. She’d lost the doubt, the fear in her face was gone. She appeared suddenly confident, in charge.
She lifted a hand to his face and ran two finger along his beard stubble. He moved his face to kiss the softness of her fingers. Her hand started to drop down, but he grabbed her wrist, keeping it near him a moment longer. He brushed his cheek against her hand as he opened her fingers so he could press her palm against his face. He breathed in the scent of her. Honeysuckle and whipped cream. His resolve left him.
He cupped her hand into a light fist, the stretched her over her head until it was straight. He dropped his head, turning his neck to he could kiss the inside of her wrist.
She groaned with pleasure as his tongue probed the pulse point. Her eyes fell shut. With sloppy need he slurped and sucked his mouth and tongue slowly down the length of her arm until coming to rest on the concave of her inner elbow.
She moaned with pleasure as he licked and sucked that part of her as if it were her clit. She moved her body into him, but he moved his hips away, so all he felt were the swelling need of her breasts as they pressed into his lowered chest.
He felt the muscles in her arms trembling and he knew that he’d held it up for too long. He removed his mouth and let her arm drop to it’s, and for a moment no part of him touched her.
Her eyes flew open. She reached out to him. He stepped away.
“Oh, Merrick, stop torturing me,” she pleaded.
“No,” he said, breathing heavily. “You’re the one who is torturing me.”
She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him back to her. Merrick covered her lips with his. They kissed, sucking inhaling, mouths opening and closing, tongues probing and searching. He felt like he was milking her, like she was milking him. Now that they’d started – he couldn’t stop. He had to possess her. His hand moved to the back of her neck and her held her there, his grip strong and vice like. She came out for air, eyes wide, then she let out deep moan of pleasure and went back in for more kissing.
They were both gasping, when they came up for air. His hand had moved from her neck to her back and then to her ass. He seen the look in her eyes. Every ounce of his being knew that she wanted him. He couldn’t resist her any longer. She made a move, but he stopped her. His hands going back to possess her. One on her shoulders and the other back at her neck.
Her eyes darkened with desire. “Don’t move a muscle,” he warned. Her eyes disobeyed him, flashing with hunger.
He bent his head, positioning his face close to cheek. She started to turn her head, but he tightened his fingers around the back of her neck. “I said, don’t move,” he reminding her.
