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“I do, Raine,” he reassured her. “I’ve told you many times.”
He bent to press his mouth fully onto hers, sinking in for a slow melding of lips, an unhurried stroke of her tongue, and a shared breath. Liam anchored himself in the moment, never rushing, always simply letting her feel how much he wanted and adored her.
Her response began cautiously, as if she wasn’t sure whether to believe all the affection in the kiss. With every sweep, he met her, giving her a bit more, always there to guide her, catch her, encourage her.
The hesitation left her gradually, an inch of starch at a time softening, until she opened completely and whimpered, giving him all her passion in that one kiss. Desperation poured from her. And need. With every moan and glide of her tongue, she told him that he mattered to her. She loved him. Liam felt waves of it from her. This was part of what addicted him to her, not just her beauty or sexuality, but the way he could feel her vulnerability, need, and caring when he held her.
With one fist in her hair to keep her close and the other clamped onto her hip, he broke away. “Where are you?”
“Very green,” she breathed.
“What did that kiss make you feel?”
Raine shrank back a bit. A little furrow appeared between her brows. He tried not to grit his teeth in frustration.
“There’s no right or wrong answer, love. I only ask because I care.”
She relaxed. “Languid. Connected to you.”
“I’d hoped you would say that.” For starters, anyway. He ran a hand up her soft, smooth torso to her breast, brushing his knuckles across the swell. “What did that kiss tell you about my feelings?”
“That you were there for me.” She had a harder time getting the next words out. Liam watched her struggle and urged her to fight. “That you care.”
That shouldn’t be news to her. “Of course I do. But I always want you to feel it.”
She nodded. She didn’t speak, but her stare never wavered. Hope and need and a silent pleading for his affection all lay there. She wanted more and wanted to share herself.
Anticipation charged his blood. “Something you want to say, love?”
Raine blinked, bit her lip, then shook her head and lowered her gaze. She was so bloody bottled up. Liam forced down more disappointment. He refused to give up.
Lowering himself to his elbows, he settled his face closer, brushing his lips over hers. “You can tell me anything.”
“I know.”
No, she didn’t. He sighed.
Shimmying down her body, he knelt to kiss the insteps of her little feet and nip at her toes. The ticklish girl giggled, then watched him with wide eyes, her expression somewhere between awestruck and afraid. Bloody hell, there was a wealth of information on her face. She’d been fucked—by the bastard who had taken her virginity, by Hammer, even by him—but no one had truly taken the time to show her his caring through touch. It made him doubly determined to reveal his heart without words now.
He kissed his way up her smooth legs, lingered at the soft caps of her knees, laving his way up her thighs, until he breathed over her pussy. The lass was wetter than he’d ever seen her. The closer his lips came, the more ragged and uneven her breath turned. She thrust her hips at him. He pinned her gently to the mattress.
“No, love. Where are you?”
“Green.” She couldn’t get the word out fast enough.
He smiled, then blew a hot breath on her slick folds and rubbed the pad of his thumb right above the plump flesh. “What does my touch make you feel now? Tell me.”
“More than wanted. Like…no one else matters more to you. It sounds crazy, but—”
“No. You’re exactly right. I’m proud of you.”
With both thumbs, he opened her cunt to his gaze, his tongue. Liam lifted her hips high, his hands banded about her thighs, as he buried his face in her folds, eating her slick flesh like a man starved. He kissed the most feminine part of her with his whole body, giving her all the thoroughness he’d bestowed on her mouth. Even though his cock wept, hard as steel and pounding with need to be inside her, he lingered, aroused, encouraged, brought her higher.
Intoxicated by her slippery musk sliding across his tongue, he hummed his approval against her softness. “Does that make you feel cared for?”
“My head is swimming,” she panted. “My blood is rushing. My pussy aches.”
Easy responses to confess, and probably ones that had stroked his masculine pride in the past. Now he wanted more. “Good. What about your heart?”
“I…can’t imagine you giving that intensity, in that way, unless it meant something to you.”
A better response, but still not what he sought. “Yes. But what do you feel in your heart when I do this?”
