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Vincent glowered at me, tugging at my shirt where it was tucked into my jeans. He looked at my clothes as if they offended him. I stifled a laugh, even though I was worried. It was clear that even standing there was taking a toll on him.
“You should be in bed!” I scolded.
“That’s the plan,” he said with a wolfish grin.
“Men! All you think about is sex!”
“Dresses and skirts from now on,” he decreed. “Much easier to get access to you.”
“You are out of your mind,” I said, but I was laughing. I could not stop laughing at the crazy man in my bedroom.
Alive. He is alive.
I could hardly believe it. I was so lucky. And he had risked it all again for us. He had made sure we would be safe. That was twice.
When I thought about how desperate my situation had been a week ago . . . fearing for them both. And now they were both here, under the same roof. Safe and secure in my heart.
I’d tried to find a way out of the tangle Philip had created, but I had needed help. And he had come to the rescue. He had saved me.
He had saved us both.
“Take this off,” he murmured, his fingers slipping between the buttons of my silk blouse. I shivered at the feeling of his hands on me. I wanted him. Very badly. But he was hurt!
“Your bodyguard will be angry if I tear your stitches.”
“Tiny? He can go to hell. They can all go to hell. As long as you take your goddamn clothes off.”
I laughed at the grumbly tone in his voice. He was cranky, like a little boy who’d had his favorite toy taken away.
Apparently, my boobs were the toys.
“Will you be careful with your stitches if I take my top off?”
“Yes,” he said, somehow sounding both sullen and eager at once. “I promise,” he added eagerly.
“Lie down, then,” I purred, gently pushing him away. He sat down on the edge of the bed and carefully took his shoes and socks off before scooting backward. It was hard not to notice that he never took his eyes off me.
Oh, yes, I had Vincent Margarelli’s full attention.
Slowly, very slowly, I started undressing. It was a bit cruel, but I couldn’t help but tease him a little. I undid a button then paused, tilted my head to look at him, and removed my shoes instead. He growled. I noticed that his eyes were starting to glaze over.
His mouth was slightly open. And . . . was that drool?
I went back to my white silk blouse and unfastened the buttons at my wrists. Then another button on my chest. Then another. Then another.
Finally, I turned away and let the silk slide off my shoulders, arching my back and glancing over my shoulder at him.
“Happy?”
“Bra. Bra, too, dammit,” he commanded, sounding out of breath.
I laughed and reached back, unclasping my bra. Then I turned to face him, my breasts cupped in my hands.
“Is that what you wanted?”
“Woman . . .”
“No, don’t get up,” I said when he started to move. I moved my hands, and he visibly relaxed. I circled my fingertips over my breasts, bringing the nipples to hard points. Then I reached for the button on my jeans and paused.
“Should I keep going?” I asked innocently.
“Yes,” he said in a voice that was so deep, I suspected even dogs would not be able to hear it.
I undid my jeans and then unzipped them, slowly shimmying them off my legs. Then I kicked them away.
“Now what?” I asked coyly.
“Panties. Dear God, please remove your panties.”
I had never seen a man so focused on anything in my life. It was as if my panties were his favorite baseball team and watching me take them off was the World Series.
Or the Super Bowl.
The Super Bowl if he had bet a lot of money on it.
“Hmm . . .” I said, considering. But then I took pity on him. I pulled them to the side, revealing my bare pussy. “Is that what you want?”
“Fuck. Yes.”
“All right, Vincent. I’ll give you what you want.”
I slid my panties down and stood, walking across the room to the bed. Then I crawled up the bed to him like a kitty cat. He was still dressed, but I could see that he was fully erect.
“What I want,” he hissed, “is that pussy on my face.”
His words sent a thrill through me. He was talking dirty, but the way he enfolded me in his arms was tender, almost reverent.
He kissed me deeply, his hands exploring my skin, running smoothly over my back, sides, and bottom. He squeezed me, pressing me firmly against his arousal. He moaned in pleasure, but I thought I heard a little bit of pain.
“Is this hurting you, Vincent?” I asked worriedly.
