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I leaned back on my elbows to enjoy the glorious view as he tugged off his T-shirt. Foster was in my room, getting naked. My brain could hardly process that. “I’m not that brave. I didn’t sleep with Pike.”
Foster paused, his head out of the shirt but his arms still wrapped in it. “Hold up. You didn’t?”
I attempted a casual shrug even though absolutely no part of me felt casual or relaxed right now. “We just ended up chatting in the bathroom while we took turns showering.”
Foster didn’t smile, didn’t comment, but his eyes glinted with something that made my stomach flip. He finished tugging off his shirt and tossed it aside, then he was crawling onto the bed, an imposing figure looming over me—one I’d lain in this very bed and pictured above me more times than I’d ever admit to.
The cool material of his athletic pants brushed my bare legs as he insinuated a knee between my tightly clenched thighs. His dark hair fell across his forehead as his eyes crinkled around the corners and the hard length of his erection brushed again
st my hip. “Relax, angel. I’m not going to make demands on you this time or hurt you.”
“You didn’t hurt me,” I said, my words hardly a whisper. I was breathing too hard, heady with the smell of his skin, to manage much else. “Not on purpose.”
He lowered his head, finding the curve of my neck and kissing me there. The soft press of his mouth made my nipples go hard against my T-shirt. “I hit you, Cela. Hard enough to raise welts. And believe me, it was very much on purpose.”
I shivered as he nipped at my collarbone. “I don’t remember the pain.”
Just the pleasure. The grind-my-brain-into-useless-bits pleasure.
He lifted up, his elbows braced alongside me, and gave me a searching look before the veil slid over his expression again. “Are you still sore from the other night?”
I knew he wasn’t asking about the spanking this time. I reached up and looped my arms around his neck, relishing the freedom to not just look but touch him. “Totally recovered.”
His smile was slow, wicked. “Good. In that case, you have far too many clothes on.”
He lifted me up a bit and eased my T-shirt over my head, then let me fall back to the bed. His pupils went black in the lamplight as he gazed down at me and drew the tip of his finger around one of my nipples. I moaned at the featherlight touch.
“I love how sensitive you are,” he said, offering the same gentle touch to the other side. “The slightest touch makes you shiver and flush. It’s beautiful to watch.”
I almost admitted that even a look from him made me shiver, but I knew revealing how much he affected me would only make me look like some girl with a mad crush. Hell, I was a girl with a mad crush. “You’re good at the touching.”
He laughed softly before leaning down to take my mouth in a long, languid kiss. His bare chest pressed against mine, the light dusting of hair teasing my sensitive skin, and his lips took command of mine. Unlike the urgent hunger of our first few kisses together, this one was like a lazy summer night, making everything go slow and warm inside me. He tasted of toothpaste, and I smiled against his mouth at the thought of us both rushing into the bathroom after the text message to erase all signs of midnight breath. Somehow I found the humanness of that comforting. Here in my bedroom he wasn’t the untouchable sophisticated businessman, just Foster—a guy who was maybe trying to impress me as much as I was him.
But I couldn’t hold on to the thought for long because Foster’s hands were cupping and kneading my breasts, and his tongue was sliding along mine in a way that had moisture gathering fast between my thighs. I lifted my hips against his, and his erection pressed hard against me. He groaned into the kiss, biting my bottom lip. His fingers dug into my ribs, hard enough to make me gasp.
His grip instantly released, and he broke away from the kiss, breathless. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I slid my hands into his hair. Every part of him that pressed against me was tense, as if he was the only thing standing between me and some avalanche. “Please, don’t stop.”
He turned his head into my palm and kissed it. “Not a chance.”
He grasped my wrist and trailed kisses down my inner arm until he reached my shoulder and gave it a gentle bite. I closed my eyes and worried I might simply sink into the sheets and never get out of bed. As long as he kept doing what he was doing, I couldn’t imagine anything worth getting dressed for again. I wanted to stay here, beneath him, feeling his mouth on mine, his body molded against me.
Foster’s mouth worked down over my sternum, touching and tasting and teasing. Then his lips were closing over a nipple, sucking firmly enough to make sharp bolts of pleasure shoot downward and make my clit throb—as if the erogenous zones were connected by some invisible wire. I shifted restlessly beneath him, and he clamped a hand over my thigh. His tongue flicked my nipple again. “Stay still, angel. Let me enjoy you.”
“I’m trying,” I said, desperation lacing my voice. “Maybe you should’ve tied me down or something.”
His head lifted, his gaze dark when it met mine. “Don’t tempt me.”
My vocal cords seemed to twist and knot, that dangerous look of his not unlike the scary one he’d given Gerald. Only instead of this one chilling me, it made me burn. “Yes, sir.”
His eyebrow lifted. “I didn’t ask you to call me that tonight.”
“What?” My mind scrambled for a moment. Then I realized what had rolled off my tongue—some weird automatic response. Sir. “Oh, right, sorry.”
His jaw twitched and so did his cock, right against my thigh. “Lie back and relax. One rule I’m breaking about first times tonight is that you get to come. Often.”
Before the oh even slipped past my lips, he dragged my boxers down my legs, leaving me in my white cotton bikini underwear. I remembered too late that I probably should’ve switched those for something sexier—not that I had anything really impressive. But before I had time to stress about it, I saw the heat flare in Foster’s eyes. He dragged a knuckle along the front of my underwear, the material clinging to my wet skin. “You’re so fucking sexy, Cela. Even more so because you have no idea.”
