Maybe it's all three.
His chest rumbles with another of those delicious growls that seem to vibrate straight through me.
Instead of frightening me now they comfort me.
The sound wraps around me like a promise.
Like coming home.
His hands find the hem of my top, his movements slow, giving me every opportunity to stop him if I choose.
His eyes never leave mine.
Never once.
They're searching my face.
Asking.
Waiting.
Trusting me to tell him no if that's what I want.
I don't.
I can't remember ever wanting anything more.
His growl is deep and sexy as hell as it pulls my shirt over my head.and I’ve never felt more confident.
More seen.
I gasp, eyes wide and desperate for him to continue.Good thing I don’t have to wait long.
Next, he takes off my pants and holy hell, by the time he gets my underwear off I am panting for him.
But somehow, even now, this doesn't feel rushed.
It feels inevitable.
Like we've been walking toward this moment our entire lives.
And I’m no blushing virgin.I am plenty old enough to know what sex is and to acknowledge when I want a man.
But wanting Rand is unlike anything I’ve ever felt.
It’s like he’s attuned to my body, to my wants and needs.The way he touches me?It’s like magic.
I feel alive.
I feel special.Seen.Desired.
And that’s new.It’s addictive.
I whimper as his lips leave trails down my neck, and the valley between my breasts.
“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he groans and sucks one nipple into his mouth.
I arch into him, gasping as his lips and teeth and tongue do magnificent things to me.
