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He pats my back. “S’okay.”
“You ever have bad sex?” I ask him. My head feels deliciously comfy on his chest, and his nipple is a mere inch or two away from my face. I lift my fingers and begin to trace circles around it. Daniel’s got a dusting of chest hair all across his pectorals, but I like it. It feels warm and a little fuzzy against my cheek.
“Shit yeah. Who hasn’t?” His fingers move along my spine again, and after a moment he says, “I once banged a girl—a base bunny—who called me my sergeant’s name the entire time. We were both too drunk to care but, I admit, it kinda shriveled my dick when I sobered up. Never touched that ass again.”
“Because your feelings were hurt?” Poor Daniel.
“No, because Sarge was fucking disgusting. Man was seventy if he was a day, bowlegged, dentures, and the worst damn breath. Kinda insulted that she mistook us.”
I giggle at that, because I picture a girl mistaking this breathtakingly gorgeous man for that and it seems absurd. “Maybe she was really, really drunk.”
“Shit, I sure hope so. He had these bizarre caterpillar eyebrows that looked like they were ready to crawl off his face.”
I’m laughing now, all tension gone. He sounds so very disgruntled.
He chuckles underneath me, clearly pleased by my response. “Damn, Regan, but you have the prettiest laugh. I think I need to hear that more often.” And his fingers caress my cheek.
Just like that, my laughter dries up and I’m feeling relaxed and good . . . and even more blatantly aware of Daniel’s cock pressing against me. He’s ignoring it, but it’s obvious he wants me. And suddenly, I want him, too. I want to see if I can have sex with this man without freaking out. Oral sex with him had been amazing, but now I’m greedy and I want more. How good would flat-on-your-back, sweaty, pounding sex be? My wavering courage tells me that if I ride Daniel, it’ll be safer to get up, easier to run away.
But . . . I also wonder what it’d be like if Daniel were in charge. Would I lose my cool the moment he covers me? Or would I be too busy having the best orgasms of my life to even care?
Do I want to try? My fingers slide away from his nipple and move up to his mouth, and I trace his lips with my fingertips.
He inhales sharply, and his tongue reaches out to flick against my fingers. A low groan escapes him. “I can still taste you on your fingers.”
“Do you like it?” I ask softly.
“Makes my dick harder than a rock.”
I give my hips a little shift, rocking them against his erection. “I can tell.” My voice is becoming breathless with excitement. “Do you have condoms?”
“Yep.” No pretty words, no questioning if I’m sure or not. Just a solid affirmation. It’s handled. For some reason, that makes me smile. Everything’s always handled with Daniel. When I’m with him, it’s harder to spin out of control. He’s got me. I like that.
So I sit up a little and shift forward until my lips can reach his. I kiss him, because I like kissing this man. My mouth plays over his, the kiss light, gentle, and totally controlled by me. His lips brush over mine, his tongue flicking against my own, and it feels incredibly good. So good that I want to try and go a little further.
I roll off of him, and my hands drag at his shoulders, trying to pull him over me. But Daniel sits up and gives me a wary look. “Regan, you sure—”
I nod. “Keep kissing me, okay? I’ll let you know if I freak out.”
“All right.” He shifts his weight, and then his chest is pressing against mine and his mouth covers mine again.
I can feel the old fear flickering in the back of my mind, and the urge to start counting off horror movies rises. But then Daniel’s tongue brushes against my own, and pleasure returns. I make a small noise of protest when his mouth pulls away from mine, but he’s only pressing light kisses along my jaw, tickling me with their touch. And that’s all right, too. It’s tender and loving and nothing like the horrible experiences I’ve had in the past.
“You’re so beautiful, Regan. So fucking beautiful it drives me crazy.” His hands slide over my body, caressing me, and his leg moves between mine. His movements are slow and easy, clearly designed not to startle me, and I appreciate his thoughtfulness. It’s like he knows this is a huge moment for me and that I could go either way: either scared of sex forever or move on past my trauma.
I want to move on. More than that, I want to move on with him. I tilt my head back, exposing my neck for his mouth to move over, and it feels so good as he scrapes his teeth along my sensitive skin. I gasp when his mouth latches onto my earlobe, and he tongues it then lightly sucks on it. A moan rises from my throat, and my nipples ache; my ears are really sensitive.
