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Her lips curled up at the corners, and she tilted her head. “I could have sworn we already covered this territory about the ‘stranger danger’ conversation.”
She closed the distance between them and tugged at his shirt. He tensed.
“Erica—”
“Don’t,” she said, and something in the hoarse catch of her voice stopped him. “Please don’t push me away now.”
She sank to her knees and smoothed her hands over his stomach, then walked her fingers down. When she traced the hard shape of his erection, he groaned and closed his eyes.
Yet nothing could erase the image of her kneeling before him and stroking him. His entire body shuddered with each gentle touch. He gritted his teeth. Capturing her hand, he drew her to her feet and cupped her face in his palms, memorizing every detail. Every curve and hollow of her features. Every fleck of tawny hazel in her eyes. Everything.
“Erica, love, I’m trying hard to be good.”
“No one asked you to.”
She rose on her toes and pressed her mouth to his. She plundered him greedily, with a heat and hunger he’d never known she possessed beneath that delicate skin. By the time she drew back he was panting, taut and burning and ready. But it was the emotion in her eyes that set him alight—a warmth that he hoped might be the first sparks of love.
“I won’t regret it,” she said. “I promise.”
When she kissed him again, he surrendered with a tortured groan. The last of his restraint dissolved, leaving nothing but her. He crushed her lips to his and swept her against his body. Her shirt rode up to her breasts. She reached between them to tug it down, but he caught her wrists.
“You don’t have to hide yourself from me.”
Slowly, he backed her toward the bed and pushed her down. Her legs cradled him as he stretched himself over her and drank in every inch of her, sprawled so lovely beneath him.
Leaning down, he nipped her earlobe. “Let me love you,” he whispered. “All of you.”
He trailed kisses along her jaw, until he finally found her mouth. She was ready for him, and her tongue dueled with his the moment their mouths met. She dragged her fingers through his hair and moved restlessly beneath him. His hands explored her body, discovering every soft, flowing curve, every sensitive place that made her shudder and twist. When he cupped her breast, she whimpered and arched her back. His body screamed at him to hurry, to take what she offered so freely. Strip her naked. Plunge inside.
He’d never made love to a woman before. Sex was one thing. This was different. This was the woman he loved, and he wanted to do it right. He broke free of her embrace and tore his shirt over his head, then stripped out of his jeans. She watched him, that damnably sexy lower lip caught between her teeth again, her eyes liquid with desire. He devoured her parted lips, her dilated eyes, and imprinted them on his memory. He would carry this moment with him forever.
“God, you’re perfect,” she whispered, cheeks flushed.
Her outstretched hand invited him. Irresistible. He shed his boxers and slid back onto the bed. His body covered hers, and he rested his weight against the sweet fragility of her as he kissed her until she was panting, wet lips open for him. Her clothing teased against his naked skin, utterly maddening. He wanted to rip it from her body and leave every glorious inch naked to his touch, but not yet. No matter her eagerness, he didn’t want to push her too hard, too fast.
His erection brushed her inner thigh, and his hips jerked. He ached for the tight heat of her, but distracted himself by worshipping her body. His lips claimed her throat, and his teeth marked every inch of it as his with taunting, gentle bites that left her tossing her head, crying out in sharp little gasps. His fingers traced over her stomach through her shirt, and rose to cup her breasts again. His thumbs teased her nipples through the fabric, and she writhed.
“Jeremy,” she whimpered.
“Not yet, love,” he said, and kissed her again. Slower. Deeper. Loving her mouth with obsessive focus, exploring every inch of her while his fingers teased her clothing away. She arched her hips as he drew her shorts off and peeled her panties down. But when he went for her shirt, she froze.
“Wait,” she gasped, stiff beneath him. “Turn out the lights.”
“No.” He brushed his mouth to hers and tightened his grip on the shirt. He tasted her tears. He knew she had a hard time letting go, but if he didn’t show her now, she would never believe him. “Trust me. You’re beautiful.”
“No.” She shook her head. “No, I’m not.”
He met her eyes. “You are. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.”
Her smile was watery through her tears. “When you say it, I almost believe it.”
His heart wrenched in his chest. He traced his thumb over her lower lip and kissed away her tears, then coaxed her hands away from their death grip on the shirt. “One day,” he said, “you won’t need me to say it for you to know it’s true. But until then, I’ll show you as many times as you need.” He slipped his hand beneath the shirt and rested it against the bare skin of her stomach; she sucked in a breath. “If you really don’t want me to do this, I’ll stop. But seeing your scars won’t change how I feel about you. It didn’t make me leave before, and it won’t make me leave now.”
Her eyes locked on his. Her shaking fingers touched his cheek. The combination of fear and adoration in her eyes nearly ripped him apart. “Okay,” she said.
More than fear and adoration…he realized there was trust there. Trust in him. Trust that he would never hurt her. Trust no one else had ever given him. He smiled.
He would give her everything he could in return.
