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Chapter 7
Genevieve’s skirt rode up just far enough on her thighs that, when he dipped his head and looked down, he could see the dark triangle of her black panties. He could guess that they were lacy and barely-there, just like the bra she wore, and the thought made him hard as a rock.
Add that to the fact that he could feel the heat radiating from between her legs all the way through the thick denim of his jeans, and his cock may as well have been nothing but a giant mass of throbbing pressure.
He slid his hands up the warm, silky skin of her torso and used both of them to cup her face. He opened his mouth to speak but was struck for a moment by her sheer beauty—the way that her eyes were so wide and eager and full of life as she looked down at him.
Damn. She was exactly the same as she’d always been. As long as he’d known her, she’d had a special spark, some divine glow that poured from her, and somehow through all the shit that life handed out, she’d managed to keep it.
He certainly hadn’t. He’d seen too many things happen right in front of his eyes that would’ve made him swear he was in hell if it hadn’t been for the fact that he couldn’t imagine hell being so cruel.
But when he was with Gen, he still felt that sense of possibility, like anything and everything good in the world might happen. More than that, he felt like he deserved it.
What does she feel when she’s around me? What the fuck do I have to offer other than pain and darkness? And now I can’t even fly my way out of it.
He squeezed his eyes shut. He’d made it through the shit by training himself to never indulge in those kinds of thoughts. It wasn’t productive. It distracted from survival. So, he did what he always did: shoved them down.
They would surface later. They always did. He didn’t care. That was later’s problem. His only concern was now.
He opened his eyes again and took in the sight of a gorgeous half-naked Genevieve on his lap. A small smile touched his lips.
If that’s what now has to offer, then now is pretty great.
She was still looking at him expectantly. He’d been about to say something when he’d been hit with those shitty thought grenades. He had to get himself back in the present.
“You’re beautiful,” he growled. “Let’s go to your bedroom. I want to take you in your bed.”
She drew in a sharp breath, and the skin across her chest blushed a dusky rose.
She sprang to her feet, and he barely had time to miss the heat of her center against him before she was holding out her hand to him, and then he stood and followed her to the bedroom.
His eyes roamed her body as she glided ahead of him, every movement as lithe as a panther. Everything about the moment felt surreal, like a dream, right down to the shadow-filled bedroom lit only by moonlight.
As soon as the door closed behind them, he drew her into his arms. She was warm and soft, and her energy seeped into his skin along with her body heat.
He was seized with a sudden desire to see her naked, to rake every inch of her body with his eyes, to look at her gorgeous flesh bathed in the magic moonlight.
He’d seen her naked a hundred times before. Hell, a thousand. But this was different, somehow. It was like everything was new again between them. Like he was touching her, kissing her, and seeing her for the first time. It made his blood rush hot and electric through his veins, made him feel like he could conquer the world.
His cock was so stiff that it threatened to burst right through his jeans. If he didn’t free the monster soon, he wouldn’t be totally surprised to see a red imprint down his shaft from where it had pressed so hard against his fly.
His discomfort was nothing compared to his desire to feast his eyes—and his hands and his mouth—on her beautiful, perfect skin.
Instead of moving toward her and tearing her clothes off—and his along with them—like he usually would’ve done, he stood stock still. “Strip,” he ordered. The command was clipped and forceful. Her eyes widened in response, and her breath sped up.
He could barely detect a tiny tremor in her hands as she unfastened her bra, but she did that smoothly enough. The fabric slid down over her shoulders and arms, coming to rest in a pool of lace at her feet.
She stood still for a moment before continuing. Her chin tilted up, her shoulders back. Her pink-tipped breasts thrust forward proudly. Everything about her said she was putting herself on display for him, and yeah, he was a more than appreciative audience.
Her eyes met his. A slow, languorous smile spread across her lips, and she continued taking off her clothes.
She unfastened her skirt and it quickly joined the bra on the floor. Then she stepped out of her heels and paused again. He liked that. There was a rhythm to her striptease and the moments of stillness added every bit as much as the moments of action.
She was now clothed in nothing but a slip of black lace panties, and she spun slowly before sliding them down her legs so that he could watch her delicious ass as she bent deeper and deeper.
She was the hottest thing on two legs.
When the lace undies joined the rest of her outfit, and she slowly rose to face him, he took a long second to take in the glory that was naked Genevieve, but then he could hold out no longer. He had to touch her, feel her, taste her, take her.
