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“That’s exactly what I meant.” She reached out and squeezed his hand. “Thanks for sharing that with me.”
He picked up his plate and started eating again, and so did she. They talked of small things, her classes and his job, until they were done with their meals.
He carried everything to the small sink and set them to soak, and when he turned back toward Becca, he found her stretched out on her stomach on the floor facing the fire, her chin propped in her hands and her sock-clad feet in the air, crossed at the ankles.
So sweet, so innocently sexual it punched his arousal back into high gear. And so damned hot he figured the image would be burned into his brain forever.
He wanted her. And he wanted her now.
Chapter Nine
“Christ, babe. You’re sexy as hell, especially in front of the fire like that. Good thing we’re not at a club. I’d be fighting other guys off.”
She swiveled her head at his words and looked up at him, captivated by the intense look on his face. While he grabbed a few pillows from the sofa and tossed them onto the floor, she shifted onto her knees, facing him. With a quick twist of his arms, he pulled his sweater off. Underneath, he was wearing a tight black T-shirt that hugged his torso. He unbuckled the black leather belt and pulled it free from his black jeans.
Her throat went dry. Good God, he was hot. Had it only been a day and a half since she’d told him she was single? Things had moved fast, fast enough to make her dizzy, but in a good way.
“Stay right where you are,” he ordered. And it was an order, no doubt. One that set her heart fluttering.
She stayed right there on her knees, wondering what he had planned for her, but she didn’t have to wonder long.
He squatted down behind her, leaned forward and set his teeth against her shoulder and neck. He loved doing that to her, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him no. It felt so damn good. He took his time, trailing his fingers down her arms, touching them and kissing them and licking them. She stared into the fire and just felt, her head falling back as he discovered a particularly sensitive spot on her elbow. She allowed her mind to drift off to that question he’d asked her, the one about the one fantasy she’d love to make come true. He didn’t know it, but he’d already done that. He was doing it right now, touching her with sexual purpose, not out of a sense of duty but because he wanted to. Because, if she believed him, he’d wanted to for five long years.
She felt warm leather sweep around one of her wrists and then her arms were tugged behind her back. She flexed a bit but they were bound together. She licked her lips even as her heart sped up.
“You okay?” He spoke in her ear, his breath whispering against her skin.
“I...yes.”
His hands trailed over her hips, resting there lightly. “Spread your knees for me, kitten.”
She did, and then she started shaking. She tried to figure out how she felt, but she couldn’t. Not embarrassed. Not nervous, exactly. It came to her then, and a rush of heat flooded her.
Anticipation.
She wanted this, but she wanted it only from him. She couldn’t imagine trusting anyone else like she did Jeremy. Her ultimate fantasy was this, on her knees for him, at his mercy, taking whatever he decided to give her, hoping it was everything she’d always wondered about.
He moved a pillow in front of her and then guided her forward, one hand warm against her back, the other still on her hip steadying her. “I want you to put your head on the pillow, babe.”
She did that too, even though her ass was in the air now, right in front of him. The thought only made her crave him even more.
“Perfect.” There was a beat of silence, and a low, muttered curse. “Utterly perfect.”
And then, for a minute or thirty, his hands were everywhere, absolutely everywhere except right between her legs at her core. He touched her hips, her thighs, played with the thong resting between her cheeks. When he was done touching, he started tasting, licking her and biting her lightly until she couldn’t hold back anymore.
“Please. I need... I want... Oh, God.”
He leaned over her back, his jeans doing nothing to mask the hardness of his erection as it pressed against her body. Once again, he whispered in her ear. “Not. Quite. Yet.”
If she could move, she’d bang her head against the floor. But she was precariously balanced and it was hard enough staying upright with such incredible need flowing through her veins. “Why?”
“Because I’m in charge, and I’m not ready to let you come. Not yet.”
He drew her upright until she was standing and when she wobbled, he steadied her. He unbound her wrists and massaged them.
“Take off your bra for me,” he said, crouching down to work her panties off her legs. He nuzzled his nose into her curls and inhaled, but otherwise didn’t touch her where she craved his touch. “You smell like gingerbread vanilla. Sweet and spicy and good enough to eat.”
She reached behind her and unhooked her bra, pulling the straps down her arms. It was a relief to take it off. Her breasts were full and tender, her nipples hard points. She rubbed at them, trying to ease the ache.
