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Aiden nods, and I see that he believes me, but when the black fury in his eyes doesn’t dim, I take his chin in my hand and tilt his gaze back to me. “Not now. Please.” I’m not prone to begging, but still, “I don’t want it here with us.”
“Okay.” He smiles at me, unwillingly acquiescing. “Not now,” he says.
But I know that it isn’t over. He doesn’t say anything more about it, but I can feel the speed of his thoughts, and I know he’s not going to let it go.
His gaze shifts, taking in the black lace and the swell of my breasts. And when Aiden drinks in the sight of me cupped in front of him, my insecurity slowly starts to disappear. “I love the way you look at me.” The words slide out of my mouth uninvited, forced by the weight of the emotion rising in my throat.
His gaze snaps to mine. His dark eyes burn with intensity. “Catherine, every man should look at you like you’re the most beautiful woman they’ve ever seen. And if they don’t…” he places one big palm over my right breast, covering me completely, “they must be blind.”
I momentarily consider telling him that, for most of my clients, I am the furthest thing from their minds. They are all seeking something I cannot give. But I don’t. Because Aiden sees me. And he thinks I’m themost beautiful woman he’s ever seen.
Wrapping my hands around his neck, I drag his mouth to mine. And I take. Sliding my tongue into his mouth, I take the power he gives me. I hoard the feelingsof worth he provides until we are both breathing heavily from the effort.
I am already wet.
I am ready for him.
But, wanting this moment to last, I break away and, placing my hands on his shoulders, say, “I have a fantasy about how this plays out.”
“Youdo?”
He looks so concerned, so out of his depth, that I can’t help but giggle. I take a moment to center myself, then say, “Lieutenant.” I draw out his official title, so that when I add, “I have masturbated to the thought of you several times now,” it sounds so much dirtier.
He doesn’t pale. He blushes. And, good God, the sight of the embarrassed flush spreading to his ears has me ready to tear off the rest of my clothes and bend over the bed.
Instead, I ask, “May I?” my hand on his belt buckle.
He nods, and I snap the buckle and pull his belt off. I throw it over my shoulder, discarding it. Leveraging myself slightly, I start to take his jacket off. When it gets stuck behind him, he shifts, helping me to remove it.
I toss it on the floor with no thought of tidiness.
No thought at all.
Still sitting on his lap, I start on the small buttons of his shirt, my fingers deftly uncatching each obstacle. When I get to the last one, I pop the button out and spread his shirt open.
Again, he moves to help me, but this time, I say, “Don’t.”
He stills.
Taking his hands in mine, I plant them on the bed, one on either side of us. “Don’t move.”
Again, he nods, but this time I can see that it costs him. His chest is rising and falling with each ragged in-out breath. I feel that I know this man, and I know that he is giving. I don’t think submission is his kink. But knowing it doesn’t stave the selfishness in me. “I just want to touch you for a minute.”
And I do. Leaving his shirt open, I run my hands down his bare stomach, reveling every time he tenses or shudders. There is a smattering of dark hair on his chest; it tapers in a line down to his stomach before disappearing in a happy trail.
Aiden isn’t built like Drakos. He’s not perfect. He’s tall and lanky, his abs defined by skinniness not a solid two hours a day in the gym. Compared to me, he’s a veritable giant though, long-limbed and big-boned.
When I circle my fingers over his nipples, he lowers his head slightly and closes his eyes, biting off a curse. He doesn’t move his hands to touch me, but his fingers have the comforter in a death grip that tells me he wants to.
It is only when I move to his zipper and tug it down in one smooth stroke that his eyes open again. They are black from wanting. He doesn’t breathe as I dip my hand into his open slacks and palm his hard length beneath his boxers. The access is restricted, giving me space for only the flat of one palm, but I don’t let that hinder me. Applying enough pressure to draw a groan from between his lips, I move my hand back and forth over him.
He still doesn’t move. And I don’t know how he’s so calm when everything in me is straining to race to the finish line. He is so still that, were it not for his lust-clouded eyes and pained expression, I’d think him almost unaffected, whereas my pulse is speeding away from me, and my entire body is hot with anticipation.
I thought I could extend this moment, maybe until Aiden was begging to touch me, but when my need begins a heavy throbbing between my legs, I give in first. I scramble back, off his lap, the words, “Take these off,” leaving my lips at the same time.
He doesn’t move.
He watches my face, quietly assessing my frantic state.
