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He savored her mouth, the faint mint from her toothpaste, the warmth from her tongue. He kissed her as they sank into his pillows, under the down comforter. Her hands were on his chest, her long fingers moving, but tentative. He maneuvered her hands away so that his bare chest pressed firmly against hers. He wanted her shirt off.
He remembered what she’d said earlier. That she wanted him to treat her like all his other girlfriends. But she wasn’t like any of them. He’d meant it then, and he meant it even more now. He wasn’t going to simply pull off her shirt—his shirt, he thought with a smile—to get to her full breasts.
Instead, he moved his left hand slowly up her shirt, feeling her body tense, then relax. He kissed her neck as his hand moved farther up, until he cupped her breast and gently massaged her soft skin. His thumb ran over a rough line, and for a second he thought it was a thick thread from his comforter; then he realized it was a scar that cut a wicked slash from one breast to the other.
When he touched it, she tensed again, and he wanted to tell her he didn’t care, but talking about it was the last thing either of them needed right now. So he continued his sensual massage, over her breasts, across her back, returning to her breasts, skimming his fingers and rubbing his palms across every inch of flesh until he felt the sigh of pleasure in her chest, heard the small exhale of breath that told him she was enjoying his attentions.
“I want to take off your shirt,” he whispered.
“Please,” she said, putting her arms up.
He slowly pulled it off, glancing at her breasts as he did. He saw the scar, faint but long, and it took all his strength not to react. Not because the scar diminished Lucy in any way, but because he wished he had killed Roger Morton and Adam Scott himself.
Lucy reached up and turned off the light. “Luce—” he began.
“You don’t mind, do you?”
“No.” He wanted to look at her, but this time he would make love to her by her rules. Hell, he’d make love to her by her rules all the time. He kissed her, feeling her now-bare chest against his, and sighing with a contentment he usually didn’t feel in any of his relationships.
He focused above her waist, but left no place untouched or unkissed. Her neck, her shoulders, her breasts. He kissed her stomach, then back up to the sensitive underside of her breasts, then skimmed his tongue across her nipples, up to the hollow of her neck. She gasped when he blew a breath where he’d moistened her skin, and he smiled. Then he kissed her again and felt her respond from deep inside.
Lucy had been nervous from the moment she slipped into Sean’s bed, but her nerves disappeared as Sean methodically explored her body. Her skin pulsed with his touch, wanting more, a feeling unfamiliar to her. She’d enjoyed sex, but always in the back of her mind were doubts. She always held back, always feared something bad would happen—that she would do something wrong. But tonight she craved Sean. She wanted him with her, his body against hers, his lips everywhere, his hands touching her most sensitive places.
His hard penis pressed against her leg, and she shivered in anticipation, wrapping her arms around Sean’s neck.
“Do you trust me, Lucy?” Sean asked.
“Yes,” she whispered.
His lips moved from her mouth to her neck again. She loved the way he kissed her just under her jawline, using his tongue lightly, like a flirt, making her squirm. Down her neck to the soft spot right above her collarbone. She grasped his shoulders, his muscles hard beneath her hands. She ran all her fingers over his back and upper arms, felt the definition of each muscle, and almost asked Sean to turn on the light so she could see them.
He kissed her breasts so tenderly, repeatedly, light feather kisses that made her warm and she was certain she was seeing stars. She’d never felt such bliss. She sighed out loud, surprising herself at the sound that came from deep in her throat.
Sean kissed her stomach and she squirmed. His hands went under the waistband of her lacy underwear, and he slowly pushed them down until they were off, somewhere at the foot of the bed. Or on the floor. She didn’t care. She parted her legs, anticipating his maneuvering, and said, “Condom?”
She’d meant to ask a full question, but only one word came out.
He laughed softly. “Yes. But I’m not ready yet.”
She frowned and reached down, surprising herself when she brazenly grasped his penis. “You feel ready.”
“Ah, Lucy, hold that thought.”
He scooted down the bed and her hand fell away. The first flicker of Sean’s tongue between her legs had her gasp. His hands were on her inner thighs, gently pushing her open, and his kisses, so wonderful on her lips, became electric. She didn’t know what to expect; she’d never made love like this before. She’d read about it, but they were just words.
Her stomach felt as if it were sinking; her entire body went hot and cold simultaneously. Sean sucked and teased her with his tongue and suddenly her hips moved on their own, and a wave of indefinable tension contracted until she gasped louder than she intended; then everything inside twisted and churned, like a riptide pulling her under, then tossing her up, over the waves. She could hardly catch her breath. Every taut muscle relaxed simultaneously, making her feel pleasantly languorous.
Sean kissed each thigh, then her stomach, then her breasts again as her chest rose and fell, her breathing rapid. “That—” she began, then forgot what she was going to say.
“I agree,” he whispered, and she felt a smile on the side of her neck.
“Are you smug?” she asked.
“Very.” He kissed her, then rolled over and opened his drawer. He took care of business quickly, and rolled back.
Sean lay on top of her, not using his full weight, but her body began to tense up again, and not in hopeful anticipation of making love. The all-too-familiar panic rose in her chest. She willed it back, hating this awful feeling that she had no control over. She could scarcely breathe, but she’d push through. This was too important—Sean was too important—to let her past interfere tonight.
Suddenly, he reached under her waist and pulled her smoothly over on top of him, her legs straddling his. “You drive, princess,” he said.
