Page 29 of Awakened By the Guardian

She rolled her eyes. “Of course it does. But that doesn’t mean…”

He didn’t reply, just continued to stroke her neck, a long gentle caress while he watched the pulse point. There was a reaction there, a speeding up, he was sure of it.

“Those other guys were wrong,” he said quietly, “to scare you away from simple affection. No offense, Margaret, but you can be damned skittish at times.”

She snorted. “I’m not skittish. Men are just big and aggressive.”

“Exactly. We’re big and scary sometimes. We push too hard and too fast. You need someone who’s looking out for you. For what makes you feel good. No matter what.”

She sat back on her heels, her expression serious. “And if that’s just a simple neck rub?”

He shrugged. “Then that’s what it is. But we won’t know for sure until⁠—”

“I know, Gary!” she huffed. “I don’t want to be broken like this. I want to kiss you and jump you and feel all the things I’ve read about. I just can’t.”

The idea of her jumping him made his body ache. “You haven’t tried anything with me,” he reminded her. “Not really. So before you try walking out of my life for my own good”—he tried not to scoff at that—“try kissing me without being afraid of what comes next.”

“Gary,” she said. It was the exact tone she used when he teased her and she didn’t want to be affected but was. That seemed like a good sign.

“One kiss. We’ll go very, very slow.”

“I’ve heard that before,” she groused, but for the first time, he heard interest. “Then, afterwards, it’s naptime for both of us. Because honestly I’m exhausted.”

“I promise,” he agreed, and he tugged her closer.

Not that he’d sleep after one kiss. He would be awake and dreaming of her, his heart pounding with need.

It took everything in him not to plunder her mouth. But that wasn’t the way to Margaret’s heart. He had to go slow and careful.

He stroked his lips across hers. When her breath caught, he knew he had her full attention and so he did it again, teasing, his mouth tingling with awareness of hers. He kept at it until he felt her exhale a hot breath that made his belly tighten, then an inhale, her mouth widening just a fraction of an inch in invitation. He pressed closer, letting his tongue slip in, playing there a moment, stroking across the barrier of her teeth and even touching the inside of her lips.

His heart hammered a thousand times a minute, his blood thumping hard through his veins, yet he held himself back. All he did was tease her lips and her teeth with his own before retreating. Steadily, softly. In, across, back.

And then it happened. She touched her tongue to his.

A single push, a tentative stroke, and his blood rushed through his ears like a freight train. He held steady for a few more moments, touching his tongue to hers, playing a game of chase and withdrawal until she echoed it. Back and forth. In and out. It was the hottest kiss he’d ever had, in part because he couldn’t deepen it. This was teasing, unsatisfying, desperately wonderful, and though he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted any woman, he pulled himself back. He forced himself to stop.

As he withdrew, he glanced down and saw the flushed skin of her chest and the hard points of her nipples. He had to double check, but, yup, there they were, hard little nubs, and he fought a grin. She was aroused. But, even seeing that, he had to make sure this was right. He wanted no confusion between them, nothing but pure acknowledged desire.

“You felt that, right?” he asked when he had his breathing under control. “It was good. You liked it.”

She swallowed and straightened. Somehow she’d ended up half in his lap. Thank God he’d locked his wheelchair or they might have rolled backward into the bedroom. Which, come to think of it, might not have been so bad.

“Smugness doesn’t become you,” she said with mock severity.

“I’m not being smug.” Or, maybe he was. “I just want to be sure you enjoyed that.”

He wanted her to be aware that she enjoyed it.

She glanced away, and he read confusion in the action. “Yes. I…liked that.”

Now he did grin. “Good! Because I did, too. Though the blueballs will kill me.”

She sobered, and how sweet she was to worry about him. So he stroked her cheek. Hell, he couldn’t stop caressing her. He could do just this forever.

“It was a joke,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”

She gave him a wry look then took his hand from her cheek, enfolding it in hers as she rose from his lap. “But can you feel it?” she asked quietly. “The blueballs?”