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“Don’t be afraid,” he said gruffly, though he didn’t know what had made him say it. She hadn’t been shy about admitting she wanted to go to bed with him.
Still, there was something about her, a hesitancy...
“I’m not afraid,” Jennie whispered.
But it was a lie.
Almost as bad a lie as not telling him why she wanted to be with him.
All right.
It wasn’t a lie.
What he made her feel had nothing to do with what she’d planned to do tonight.
Well, it did, but not as—as quite a research project.
That was how she’d thought of it from the beginning. That was how she’d intended it, how she’d planned it.
How would he react if he knew that?
More to the point, how would he react if he knew all the rest? If he knew she had never been with a man before...
And almost certainly would never be with one again?
And yet—and yet, all of that had somehow slipped away.
What mattered was how he kissed her, touched her. The way he was kissing her now. The way his erection pressed into her belly.
He felt huge.
Would she be able to—to accommodate him?
She had read scholarly articles, she had seen films. Academic films—sociology majors and psychology majors, grad psych students, often sat through hours of that stuff.
Most people had no idea how graphic those films could be.
But nothing had prepared her for this.
The feel of his aroused sex against her. The promise of all that masculine power. The insistent demand of it.
His mouth was on her breasts now. He nipped lightly at her nipples through the silk of her dress and they hardened into pebbles.
Her breasts ached.
There was an ache low, low in her belly, too.
And she was wet. Wet and hot.
She whimpered as he pushed down the bodice of the dress; his lips closed around one nipple but the silk of her bra was between her flesh and his mouth. The feel of his lips and teeth on her wasn’t enough.
It was too much.
How could it be both?
He clasped her shoulders. Turned her, gently so that her back was to him. Her hair had come undone and he nuzzled it aside, kissed the nape of her neck, nipped the flesh, soothed the small, sweet torment with a stroke of his tongue.
She heard the hiss of her zipper.
“Wait,” she gasped, “someone might—”
“It’s a private elevator,” he said in that rough, sexy, gravel-and-velvet whisper. We’re all alone.”
Jennie trembled.
All alone, she thought, as her dress slid down her hips and pooled at her feet.
All alone, she thought, as he kissed his way down her spine.
All alone, she thought, as he slowly turned her to him in her black lace bra. Black silk thong. Black, thigh-high stockings. Red stiletto heels.
His gaze moved over her. Slowly, so slowly it made her skin tingle. She felt that tingle in her breasts, her pelvis, her legs.
His eyes lifted. Met hers.
What she saw in those dark depths made her knees go weak.
Her hands came up. One fluttered to her breasts. The other went to the apex of her thighs. Slowly he reached out, caught her wrists, brought her hands to his mouth and kissed the palms.
“Don’t hide from me, Genevieve,” he said thickly. “Let me see you. You’re beautiful. So incredibly beautiful...”
He released one of her wrists. Ran his hand lightly over her, from her lips to throat to her breasts, from her breasts to her belly, her belly to the vee of her thighs, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Travis,” she said in an unsteady whisper.
“Yes,” he said, “that’s right. It’s me, touching you. Me, wanting you.” His eyes were almost black with hunger as he reached around her, undid her bra, let it drop to the floor. “Beautiful,” he whispered, and then his mouth was on her flesh, her breasts, her nipples.
She was coming apart, coming apart, as she sobbed his name again.
“Genevieve. Spread your legs for me.”
The words, the way he said them, sent an arrow of longing through her.
“Baby. Spread your legs.”
Was it a request? Or was it a command? Either way, it was impossible.
She couldn’t. No. She couldn’t...
He kissed her again.
Heart pounding, she did what he’d asked.
He said something, low and hot with urgency. She couldn’t understand the words but the look on his face told her everything she needed to know.
Still, she wasn’t prepared for what happened next, the way he cupped her, the way it felt to know that the heat burning between her legs was now burning his palm.
A high, pealing sob of almost unbearable pleasure broke from her throat. She swayed. He scooped her into his arms just as the elevator stopped and the doors opened, and she buried her face in the hard curve where his throat and shoulder joined, inhaling the scents of sex, soap and man.
She’d never understood that thing about women liking the smell of male sweat. She knew some of them did, it was a well-researched fact, but it had never made sense until now as she drew the masculine scent of him inside her with every breath.
He carried her through an enormous living room. Light filtered through tall windows, illuminated low furniture, high ceilings, burnished wood floors.
Ahead, a glass and steel staircase angled toward the next level.
He climbed it with her still in his arms, his gait steady, his heart beating against hers. He paused on the landing, kissed her and whispered her name.
Moments later, they were in another enormous room.
His bedroom, with the bed—big, wide, covered with black and white pillows—centered under a star-filled skylight.
He carried her to the bed, stopped beside it and put her down slowly, very slowly, her body sliding against his.
He kissed her.
Sweet, light whispers of his lips on hers that gradually grew deep and hungry until her head was tilted back, her face was raised to his, his hands were deep in the tumble of her hair as he held her.
They were both gasping for air, their breath mingling.
But she was almost naked and he wasn’t. It made her feel...
She pulled back.
“What, baby?” he said.
“You haven’t—you haven’t taken off—”
“No. Not yet.” His slow smile raised the temperature a thousand degrees. “I like having you undressed while I’m still wearing my clothes.”
The truth was, she liked it, too.
There was something exciting about it.
He kissed her eyes, her mouth. When he swept his fingers over her nipples, she shimmered with heat. When his mouth followed the path his fingers had taken, she moaned.
Why hadn’t someone told her this was how it felt, to have a man suck on your breasts? To know that he wanted you and to want him in return with such hot need that it made you breathless?
She heard herself whimper when he drew back.
“It’s all right,” he whispered, and it was all right because now he was peeling away the narrow strip of silk that secured her thong, working it slowly, slowly down her hips. Her legs.
“Hold on to me,” he said gruffly.
She put her hands on his shoulders. He drew the thong to her ankles.
“Lift your foot,” he said.
She did.
She would do anything he asked, anything, anything...
Jennie cried out.
But not this!
His mouth, at the delicate curls that guarded her womanhood. His fingers, gently opening her to him. His tongue, licking, teasing...
She wanted to push him away.
Instead, she tangled her fingers in his hair. Her head fell back. She moaned. Something was happening to her. She was trembling. She was coming apart.
> The orgasm took her by surprise.
She screamed. Screamed again. Started to fall, but he caught her and took her down to the bed with him.
“Now,” she heard herself plead, “please, Travis, please, please, please...”
He tore off his clothes, fumbled open the drawer in the low table beside the bed and took out a foil packet.
She had one quick glimpse of him naked as he tore the packet open.
He was beautiful, all that tanned skin stretched over layers of hard muscle.
And his sex.
She’d been right. He was big. So big.
She felt a moment of trepidation as he rolled the condom on.
“Genevieve.”
She blinked, lifted her eyes to his.
He kissed her. Clasped her hands. Brought them high above her head.
And entered her.
At first, she watched his face.
The darkness of his eyes. The tightening of the skin over his cheekbones. The way his lips drew back from his teeth.
Her vision blurred.
She stopped watching.
Started feeling.
And, dear Lord, nothing had ever felt like this.
He was filling her. Moving deeper and deeper into her. She was drowning, drowning in ecstasy, everything in her centered on the feel of him filling her.
