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Throwing them to the side, she knelt and grasped the zipper of her boot. The day she’d managed to get boots this sexy and sleek over her gigundo calves had been the first time she’d really believed she’d actually progressed from chunky to well…less so. She wasn’t skinny. She’d never be that. But crouching in the buff staring up at Sam’s aroused features in the firelight, she felt like a goddamn vixen. “On or off?” she breathed.
“Off.” He bent to run his finger over the polished leather and she shuddered with even the suggestion of feeling his bare skin on hers. “You’re gorgeous in them and you’re going to be wearing them when we fuck by the end of the night. But not when we’re making love.”
If she hadn’t been soaked before, she was now. “There’s a difference?” She kept her attention squarely on what she was doing so he couldn’t see how flustered he’d made her. She knew she had more experience than him—at least with more partners if not more variety—but he’d just knocked her completely off stride.
Hell, who was she kidding? She hadn’t had a stride since she’d met him.
“You’ll see,” he said softly, waiting until she’d removed both boots to push her lightly back on the blanket. Her butt landed with a soft thud, just as her heart did when he motioned for her to lie back. “Arms over your head. Let me see every bit of what you’re giving to me.”
Denials sprang to her lips. As much as she cared for him—way more than she’d ever bargained on—she wasn’t giving herself to anybody. Sexually was one thing. But this wasn’t about that. He was asking for possession, willingly granted.
The music changed while she fought her impulses to make a run for it. She could still get the hell out of there. If she split before this went any further, he wouldn’t have this power over her anymore. She could snatch it back.
And she’d become a coward again just when she’d finally admitted the truth.
Rory drew in a deep, long breath and lifted her arms, stretching them out so that her breasts rose high. Muscles quaking, she spread her thighs, arching her toes toward the opposite corners of the blanket. Then she turned her hands back to back and twisted her fingers together, the perfect supplicant.
Swallowing the jagged glass in her throat, she whispered, “Take.”
Chapter Eleven
Rory,
I used to think home was a place. Four walls with a door. Now I know it’s your voice. Your laughter. Waking to your smile against my throat and your breath fluttering over my pulse while I turn you over and bury myself inside you…that’s home. That’s life and I’ve never appreciated it more.
~ Sam
Sam went down to his knees and closed his eyes, sending up a brief, fervent prayer. He was shaking so badly, his insides scraped raw with longing, and she was beyond lovely and perfect. Somehow they’d found each other in the most amazing, unbelievable circumstances and she was offering him not just her body but her love.
He couldn’t screw things up.
“Sam?”
He looked at her and then down at the edges of the blanket he’d clutched in his fist
s. “It’s been a while and God, you’re so sexy I can’t even breathe.” His voice shook to match the rest of him. “If I fuck this up, I’ll get it right, Ror. I promise. Just bear with me, okay?”
“You won’t fuck it up.” Her utter certainty in the face of his fear calmed his jangled nerves. “We’re going to make the most wonderful, incredible, sticky, dirty love that’s ever been made. Got that? Now get up here, Sam Miller, and prove me right.”
He laughed and started to crawl up her body, her smile and her dewy eyes drawing him closer like a crooked finger. On his way, he stopped to kiss parts of her that particularly drew his attention. There were a lot of them so it took a while. Her delicate ankle bone, the curve of her calf leading to the intriguing hollow behind her knee. A nip there coaxed her legs farther apart. Her thighs were a wonder. Smooth and so warm, glowing golden in the dancing light. So wet when he urged them apart, opening her up so he could take in the glistening pink folds he’d imagined so many times.
His reverent fingers skimmed up her pouty lips to her mound. She had a little tuft of dark silky curls, meant to tease. He teased her instead, sifting through them, tugging so that she writhed in anticipation of his touch. Her slick pussy gleamed in the firelight, her clit rounded and full when he spread her lips. He flicked his fingertip over her and she arched, a tortured sound escaping her throat. Again, harder.
Another jolt went through her and she wriggled on the blanket, knocking over some of his strategically placed piles of sand. Some of it blew across her body, dotting her belly and clinging to her puckered nipples. He sucked in a breath and willed himself to hang on just a little longer.
He rubbed his finger over her, spreading the wetness he couldn’t wait to taste. Not yet. If he went down on her now he’d come before he made it inside her body. A little lower and her slit sucked at his finger, beckoning him to explore. Tight and hot, she closed around him, ripples already moving through sensitive tissues. He didn’t thrust just watched her face change as she got used to having part of him inside her. Another finger joined the first and then they were moving with the undulations of her body, driving her higher and higher. Her breasts bounced, their tips taut and ripe in the shadowy light. He angled up to take a nipple between his teeth while he worked her into a frenzy with slow, patient strokes, biting down when his thumb coasted over her clit. She reared upward, a moan erupting from her as if she were stunned.
He smiled, memorizing exactly how she looked on the verge of orgasm. Her lids heavy, her mouth swollen. He intended to see her like that over and over again before the night was through.
And that would just be the beginning.
He drove his fingers deeper, sliding them through her slippery wetness with ease. She clamped tighter and threw back her head, giving him yet another area to sample under her jaw as she bucked against his hand. The summery scent of burning wood layered over the intimate scent of her pleasure and he closed his eyes, so close to orgasm himself that his breaths came out in uneven pants.
“Sam,” she gasped. “God, Sam.”
Her inner walls squeezed around him and he reveled in the moans vibrating in her throat when he drew on the skin above her pulse. That steady beat matched the throb against his fingers as she came in a warm, wet gush.
“Jesus.” He shifted his erection away from her heaving belly. Even that much of her velvety skin against him would make him lose it. “Not yet. Not yet,” he chanted under his breath, straining to finish what he started.
