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I shake my head ‘no’. That’s the first time anyone’s told me that. Although, to be fair, I’ve only ever been with guys from my community.
Dare mumbles to himself, “So these sounds are just for me.”
I don’t know if he remembers that I can read lips, especially when I’m naked and nose to nose with the person speaking.
I don’t think he cares.
His mouth tightens as if he’s struggling to keep himself together and the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention.
A jaw muscle clenches and, if not for the hunger in his eyes, I’d think he was angry. Slashing eyebrows. Clenched fingers. Everything about his body language screams that he’s about to lose his mind.
As if to prove this is something far more enticing than anger, Dare lets his fingers play again and I know I react with another groan because his face crumples and he grits his teeth even harder.
It’s a struggle to catch my breath, but I sit up. My head lolls. It feels like I’m drunk. Like I’m floating on one of those drugs the girls at the agency sometimes sniff to take the edge off.
Why are we having this discussion when only one of us is naked?
He’s going to make me beg, isn’t he?
But thankfully, I don’t have to bury my pride—which I totally would for the sake of getting Dare’s clothes off—to get Dare moving again.
He lifts me in his arms, cradling me like I’m fragile glass and takes me to the bed. Clothes disappear with each flap of my eyelashes.
Blink.
Dare is infinitely hotter shirtless than in tweed, which I didn’t think was possible.
Blink.
My yoga pants have been trapped around my ankles for so long I didn’t realize they were stillonme until they were gone, fluttering to the floor along with Dare’s pants.
Blink.
It’s not just Dare’s pants that are on the floor.
I blink again and Dare’s reaching for something in the hotel drawer while I’m trying to do mental calculations about round holes and round pegs and frantically calling on every biology lesson that promised humans have been making those particular items fit for millennia.
I suck in a sharp breath when Dare climbs over me, but he doesn’t move closer. Instead, he stretches out beside me and takes both my hands. He places a tender kiss on one hand and then the other. And then he kisses each of my fingers.
By the time he’s done, I’m about to roll over him myself and take control.
Reverently, he lifts one hand to his chest and places it over his heart. I feel the vibration against my palm. It’s thumping hard and fast.
Eyes covered in shadows thrown from the lamp, Dare signs, “Remember my promise?”
What promise? The one that involves him putting me out of my misery this instant? Because if he hasn’t made that promise yet, he should.
I shake my head.
“I will always be facing you.” He traces my hands. “I’ll always be watching you.”
I nod.
He keeps tracing. “Your eyes will let me know what you like, but you can tell me in other ways too.” He brings my hand to his chest and slides my fingers down, down, down. “Talk to me in whatever language you want. I’ll listen.”
I know he will.
Because this powerful, lithe, stunning man loves me selflessly and sacrificially.
