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He laid her down carefully and stood over her. “If you want to say no, now is the time.” If she did, it would cripple him. But he was damned if he’d let her accuse him of forcing her.
She curled on her side, one hand tucked beneath her cheek. “I won’t say no. But I’m not sure this is wise.”
He groaned, ripping off his clothes and tossing them aside. “It isn’t wise. It’s insane, Bryn. But to hell with everything else. Surely we deserve this one night.”
The bed creaked as he knelt and made short work of undressing her. Her skin was smooth, pure cream. Naked, she looked infinitely smaller and more fragile. Innocent. But she had the curves of a woman, and his hands shook as he touched her reverently.
Her breasts were sensitive, and he spent what seemed like hours kissing them, weighing their plump firmness in his palms, teasing the pert, dark pink nipples with his tongue and teeth. Each gasp and moan fed his hunger.
When he saw her bite her lip, he put the back of his hand to her hot cheek. “Don’t be embarrassed. I love watching you respond to my touch. You’re beautiful. Even more now than when you were eighteen.”
“I have stretch marks.” Her eyes shadowed with insecurities.
He stilled, not wanting the intrusion of the past to ruin the present. An unseen little boy came between them for a moment, and Trent’s brain shied away from acknowledging the conflict that lingered just offstage.
With a shaky hand, he swallowed hard, forcing himself to trace one faint silvery line at her hip. “No mother should ever apologize for that. You are young and lovely and sexy as hell.”
He wasn’t sure if what he saw in her eyes was gratitude or doubt. “No regrets,” he said huskily. “Tonight’s all about pleasure.”
The pupils in her eyes were dilated, her breathing rapid. “Then I want to touch you,” she said. She pushed at his shoulders. “Lie on your back.”
Bryn hadn’t seen a naked man in six years…and in truth, Jesse had been more a boy than a man. So, the reality of Trent’s tough, toned body was enough to make a woman swoon. His skin was a light golden-tan all over except for a paler strip at his hips.
She paused a moment to wonder jealously if he vacationed in the tropics at some wildly expensive private island with a string of girlfriends, but she doggedly pushed the thought away. He was here with her now.
He tucked his hands behind his head, leaving her free to explore at will. His chest was firm and lightly sculpted with muscle. A smattering of silky, dark hair emphasized his upper chest, slid between his rib cage, and arrowed all the way down to his… She gulped, feeling gauche and in way over her head. Trent was an experienced man with sophisticated tastes.
What did she know about pleasing him?
Hesitantly, she placed her hands on his shoulders. His skin was hot and smooth. His chest rose and fell once…sharply. He closed his eyes. She leaned over him awkwardly, kissing his eyelids, his nose, his full, sensual lips. She didn’t linger at his mouth. Too much danger of him taking over and derailing her mission.
Even his ears fascinated her. She traced them with a fingertip and repeated the motion with her tongue. She was shocked when her simple caress made him groan and shake.
His sharp jawline bore the evidence of late-day stubble. She liked the rough texture, because it made him seem more human, less polished. With his eyes closed, he appeared docile, but she was not stupid. Trent Sinclair was powerful in every way. For him to allow her such intimate access was a concession that was only temporary.
She moved her splayed fingers lightly down his chest, pausing to rub her thumbs over his small, brown nipples. He flinched, but didn’t open his eyes. His jaw could have been chiseled stone.
Her palms burned from the heat he radiated. She reached his hip bones and lost her courage.
Trent moaned and, still with his eyes closed, took one hand from behind his head and grasped her wrist. Gently, but inexorably, he placed her fingers on his erection. He was long and thick and fully aroused. She gripped his hard flesh and felt a rush of excitement fill the pit of her stomach.
Carefully, she stroked him. His flesh tightened and flexed in her grasp. He was hot as fire, hard as velvet-covered steel, and so amazingly alive. Without weighing the consequences, she bent her head and tasted him. His hips came off the bed, and he gasped.
