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Something rippled across his face, his eyes now burning with an indecent lust that hit me in my core. “Yes, it’s yours,” he readily agreed. “But you had your way last night, didn’t you?”
I had indeed. He’d lay back and letmedo the exploring and teasing for a change—which I’d done a lot of. “But—”
“No, I wouldn’t dream of stepping on your traditions,” he said, all mock consideration. “That wouldn’t be right.”
This motherfucker.
He cupped my jaw with a no-nonsense grip and turned my face back to the TV. “Watch.”
It was one word. Just one. But there was such sexual power in it, such sheer assertiveness, that it all but seized my compliance … even as it demanded nothing.
I knew why he insisted we wait until the movie was over. In a strange sort of way, this was foreplay. A barefaced tease. He was well-aware I’d be sitting here wanting, craving, needing.
I barely registered the scenes playing out on the TV. Couldn’t focus for shit. My thoughts were centered on him, on what would soon come, on the expectation of his touch.
Tension sparked. Grew. Coiled. Stretched out like a rubber band.
A feverish anticipation began to skip along my prickling skin. My pulse skittered each time he moved … but he kept his hands to himself. Didn’t touch me even once.
I would have complained if I thought it would get me anywhere. But I could sense he was in one of those moods where he was intent on getting his way. In truth, I couldn’t say I hated it, because the wait was infuriating in the most decadent way.
Once the movie was over, I thought he’d turn to me and claim my mouth again; maybe tell me to strip or bend over. Nope. He started doing the things that he normally did before we went to bed—putting dirty dishware in the kitchen, switching all the electronics off, and locking the house up tight.
Not about to hang around waiting for direction, I headed upstairs. At this point, sexual restlessness had flooded my brain and body. A restlessness so raw and edgy it was almost painful.
Once I’d placed my shoes on a shelf in the closet, I made my way to the en suite bathroom so I could shed my clothes and dump them in the hamper there. My reflection caught my attention, and I silently groaned.Mascara goop.
Who didn’t love mascara goop?
I gently removed it from the corner of my eye and then washed my finger. I’d just finished drying it with a small towel when he came breezing into the room. In the mirror’s reflection, his gaze caught mine. Darkened. Glittered. Stripped me bare in every sense.
My heart excitedly pounding in my chest, I didn’t move. I simply watched him slowly move closer and closer. The moment stretched out, making my stomach all light and fluttery.
Dax came up behind me, keeping his hands by his sides. He settled his nose behind my ear and inhaled deeply. “Face me.”
I did so, my chest lightly brushing his. Possession shone in the mismatched orbs that watched meso damn intensely. As always, being the focal point of such unwavering attention short-circuited my brain. My pulse kicked up, going faster and faster until it was racing.
“I want you to be still for me. Very, very still,” he specified, his voice liquid enticement, sheer dominance threaded through every note, luring me to follow and please, promising carnal pleasures.
I allowed myself to be swept under, submerging into that mental state where I felt only calm, safe, protected, and so supremely turned-on I ached with it.
He sensed my ceding of control, and a predatory satisfaction gleamed in his eyes. Pride was there, too. And ownership.
“Always so good at pleasing me,” he murmured, his eyes following the path of his finger as he dragged it down the side of my neck in a whisper-soft movement. “Last night, you got to play. Tonight, it’s my turn.” His arresting gaze sank into mine, a warning there. “And I’m not in the mood to play nice.”
That didn’t sound like anything I’d find myself complaining about at any point.
“I want you naked,” he said, his captivating pitch so deep, so steady, so molten. When I went to reach for the bottom of my tee, he gave a slow shake of the head and added, “I’ll be the one who strips you.” He lightly tapped my lower lip with his finger. “Fuck dolls can’t undress themselves.”
My mouth went ahead and dried right up.
He removed my clothing one piece at a time. He didn’t rush, but he didn’t drag his heels either. He wasallbusiness—distant, clinical, determined.
Once I was bare, he took his time letting his gaze roam over me. Pure male avarice settled into every line of his face. “Absolute perfection.”
He dipped his head and took my mouth with a sensual expertise that seemed as easy for him as breathing. The kiss was a lure. A seduction. A claiming. It had chemicals doing a full-on jig in my system and racing through my veins like wildfire.
I moaned into his mouth. He swallowed the sound with a gratified hum. And then the kiss roughened, deepened, became laced with a gluttonous need.
