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“How do you know what suits me? You don’t even know me,” Eleanor said, her voice thick. Why couldn’t she be in this man’s presence for more than ten minutes without some part of her getting weepy? It just wasn’t natural.
He sighed. “That’s what I kept telling myself. We also have different lifestyles, different backgrounds, and I convinced myself you never wanted to see my face again.”
“You’re the one who ran away.”
“I had work to do.”
“You ran so fast you left in a loincloth,” she said as she watched him pop another grape into his mouth, feeling strangely envious of the plump little fruit. “You’re in my fruit tray.”
“I’d like to be in a lot more than your fruit tray,” he whispered, moving so quickly that she was pressed up against him before she knew what had happened.
“Let go,” she whispered, but letting go was the last thing she wanted him to do. It felt too amazing to have her breasts flattened against his warm chest and his thick-muscled thigh insinuating itself in between the legs of her satin pajama pants.
“Eleanor, I’m sorry I left. Can we start over?” His hand smoothed down her back to caress the curve of her ass.
“I’m not sure.” She closed her eyes and swayed into him, tilting her pelvis just the slightest bit against the hard cock straining the fly of his jeans. A rush of heat flooded between her thighs and a whimper sounded from the back of her throat as she tried not to wrap her arms around him.
She wanted him more than she’d ever wanted any man, but she didn’t want the drama. She’d had enough pain, enough upheaval. She wanted to be able to relax and trust again. Frank had seemed like the most trustworthy man in the world, but he’d walked out on her.
How could she forget that? How could she open herself up to his powerful draw again when she knew that losing him a second time would be more agonizing than the first?
“I didn’t think you wanted the kind of relationship I had to offer,” he said. “You didn’t seem to like your life. I knew you wanted a change. How could I ask you to stay in a world you hated?”
“Relationship?” Eleanor knew there was something else she should be getting from his words, but she couldn’t get past that one word.
Relationship. He wanted a relationship? With her?
“But I couldn’t stop thinking about you, dreaming about you. I was a wreck, I drove my son crazy grumping around the house, and…” He took a bracing breath. “I’d never ask you to call me Master, and you’re certainly no slave. That’s never been the kind of thing I get off on, but I do enjoy the type of sexual relationship we started exploring the other night. It’s part of who I am. I couldn’t—”
“So this is about sex,” Eleanor said, her hope dying as quickly as it had sprung to life.
“No, damn it, it’s not just about sex,” he said, pulling her closer, pinning her against his body. “It’s about the way I feel about you. I want you, Eleanor. Sexually, emotionally, mentally, and any other way I can have you. I want you to be mine.”
“Then kiss me, Frank.” Eleanor wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled his mouth down to hers.
No matter what else he had to say, she knew enough to realize that her dreams were coming true. He wanted her the same way she wanted him, and that meant she didn’t have to fight the attraction that threatened to level her where she stood.
“First you need to tell me,” he said, pulling away from her far enough to speak. “Tell me that you’re mine.”
She could still feel his breath hot on her lips. He smelled of coffee and grapes and something purely Frank, and she was dying for a taste of him. She would tell him anything to get that taste, but thankfully what he wanted to hear was exactly what was in her heart.
“I’m yours, Frank. My lips, my pussy, my heart and anything else you can think of down the line,” she said, rocking against his cock, letting him know how she ached to be his in every way.
“And I’m yours,” he promised. “For as long as you’ll have me.”
And then he lowered his mouth and set about laying his claim in a much more erotic fashion.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Frank
Frank struggled to hold on to his control, fighting the urge to pull Eleanor down and finish what they’d started right there on the carpet. She was so unbelievably sexy, so soft and sweet tasting, and even more beautiful than he’d remembered.
When he had first seen her sitting there in those silky purple pajamas, he’d lost the ability to form words. He’d been sucked in by those big brown eyes, unable to fathom how she could look so stunning fresh out of her bed.
Her bed. God, he wanted to get her in bed, get her naked and his cock inside her in the next ten seconds. But there was no way he would let their first time be a rushed event. No matter how much he ached for her, he had to make this last. He wanted her as crazy for him as he was for her, begging him to fuck his pussy before he finally filled her.
“Frank,” she whispered against his mouth before she bit his bottom lip, raking her teeth over the sensitive skin.
