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I grin and scrape my palms down my face. “Is it too early to go to bed?”
He waves his hand. “Do you want me to take my clothes off right now or …”
Collapsing face down onto the bed, I mumble into the covers. “No sex tonight. I need to catch up on my sleep.”
Footsteps pad over to where I’m sprawled on the new navy bedlinen. Despite him insisting that this bed is mine, and mine alone, I’ve told him it belongs to both of us. I turn my head sideways to stare at the white curtains tied back at the corners of the frame.
The bed shifts as he walks onto it on his knees, and a long finger finds the dip of my neck under my hair and trails right the way down my spine. Again and again. Then he moves my hair and kisses my nape, teeth testing my skin, shifting my T-shirt with his nose to nibble a bit farther down. I shift against the seam of my sweatpants, muscles tightening, and curl my hands into fists.
“Aren’t you tired?” I ask.
He laughs at this, collapsing down next to me. “Exhausted actually.” His eyes dance. “But I’ve got this amazing woman in my bed at the moment … she’s insatiable.” He rolls onto his back, eyes closed.
“Insatiable, huh?”
His eyes crinkle at the corners, and it gives me goosebumps. This is so good. Certainly the hands on bodies bit, but also this easy conversation that warms the coldest, most mistrustful, parts inside. Fabian doesn’t ask or expect me to be anything I don’t want to be.
He twists into me, sniffing my hair. “I love waking up with your mouth on my cock, Kate. I’m right there with you.”
His hand is already on my behind, long fingers splaying over the curve, the tips rubbing along the crease. I groan. I remember the color high on his cheeks in the dim light this morning, his flushed length in between my lips, the way his eyes screwed up and his head tipped back as he came. I move my hips under his hand, and he shifts closer, erection pressing into me, fingers tightening into a hard grip. A hand slides up to drag my gray sweatpants down my legs, and he lets out a long groan when he sees my black, stretchy boy shorts. Aretheysexy? They cover everything up. I wiggle my hips.
“Why do you like this underwear?”
He gives a croaky laugh, warm hand spanning my ass. “Okay, I need to show you,” he says as he tips off the bed.He’s taking a photo?
I prop myself up on my arms, turning my head. “What are you … ?”
But he lies on top of me, heavy and hot, and shoves his phone in front of my face. I look at the picture, and—oh my God!—my underwear is halfway up my backside. Wiggling, I stretch my hand to pull the material back down to cover my butt, but he grabs my arm.
“What? They look terrible, my cheeks are sticking out and …”
“No, Kate, no,” he says as he shifts half off me, sliding a warm hand up my thigh and inside the leg of my shorts, long fingers cradling me and squeezing.
He nuzzles into my neck, mumbling. “You know nothing about men. Your butt, Kate, oh God …” He gives me another squeeze. “… and half hanging out, it looks …”
He moves his hand out of my briefs to trace the curve of my backside on the screen. I stare at it, then turn to peer sideways at him resting his chin on my shoulder, his mouth a sensuous rough line. He’s rubbing his erection into me, and I don’t think he realizes he’s doing it. Slickness builds between my legs.
“Look at this,” he whispers, still tracing the curve on the photo like a road on a treasure map.
Dropping the phone on the sheets, he shifts backward, straddling the tops of my thighs. He pushes a hot hand up into my underwear, taking his weight on the other hand while he leans his hips into mine.
“Can I come all over this?” he whispers. “So fucking sexy, Kate.”
Long fingers pull my shorts half down, and he works his teeth along the skin he’s bared before peeling them off, kissing my ass. He stands and unzips and drops his jeans, and as I turn my head, I’m just in time to see him strip his T-shirt off. I scan over the hard nipples, the map of muscles curling around his thin torso, the scripts that curl out from his shoulder and over his pectoral muscles and disappear by his hip into his tight black boxers. Will I ever want to stop looking at this?
Grinning, he dips his head down to drag my eyes up to his face, then he hooks his fingers into the band of his underpants, lifting them away from his waist, and I roll onto my back. The outline of his cock is hard beneath the thin cotton, and he slides both his hands under the material, stroking himself. Crooking my finger at him gets me a laugh as he walks toward me on his knees on the bed. When he’s close, I stroke him over the fabric.
“I love watching you do things to me,” he grunts, watching me rub my thumb across the top of his still-concealed cock, feather-light, teasing. Eyes darken like a hurricane, and my breathing stutters as twitches dance across his skin, his face shifting to tight craving. This is the transformation I like best on him. The one only I get to see—the stark seriousness, how bleak his face becomes, his jaw tightening as need builds. I shift, slippery between my legs, and he gives me a predatory, turned-on smile—all teeth and growling—and I like this expression, too—another one that belongs to me.
“When you start to move around,” he says, “you get this look on your face …”
I stare up at him, lips parting, and he leans forward to rub a soft kiss over them, groaning as I tighten my hand on his length.
“What look?”
“Turned-on Kate.” He rubs his nose against my cheek, inhaling. “It’s all for me,” he whispers, and the echo of my own thoughts has me melting into the bed, shivering as his hand skates up my leg. He pauses, long fingers curling up over my thigh, thumb stroking the crease so close to where I’m hot and tight. Little rivulets of pleasure radiate outward as I bite down on my bottom lip.
“Please, Fabian,” I whisper, and he smiles that strained smile again, moving his finger to brush the edges of my sex; still not delving down to where my skin will be pink and slippery and my hand fumbles on his cock. Tingling runs through my pelvis as he pulses under my hand, an unreal groan moving through his body as he glances down at our hands and then shifts back on his knees, and I pout, but a small smile is playing around the corner of his mouth. He slides his hand into his boxers and takes himself in hand.
