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“Did you dream of me too?” His voice is a murmur.
I lick my lips and nod.
He takes the hem of my sweater, and I sit up to let him take it off. We sit facing each other, forehead to forehead. His fingers find the tiny pearl buttons of my silk blouse, pulling them loose. He slips the delicate garment down my shoulders, and I let it fall away.
I lie back and unbutton my trousers, raising my hips to let Zachary pull them off. My underwear is a simple green set, but Zachary gazes down at me as if I’m beautiful enough to take his breath away.
And in his gaze, Ifeelbeautiful.
I always try so hard tobebeautiful, but I’ve never really felt it, not the way I do as Zachary’s brown eyes travel the length of my body.
I brush my fingertips over my chest, giving Zachary a soft smile.
“Do you like my bra?” I ask him, half mockingly, half to break the intensity of the moment.
“Sage green,” he murmurs. “It’s the colour I think of when I think of you.” He leans down, kisses one bra strap, then the other. “Now, it’s forever going to be the colour of my pleasure.”
I laugh, but my laughter dies in my throat when Zachary’s mouth drifts down the line of pale flesh between my breasts.
“It’s a beautiful bra,” he adds in answer to my earlier question, “but it’s going to have to come off.”
He takes it off me, and when I try to cover myself with my arms, he kisses my mouth, my cheek, my temple. “You’re safe with me,” he murmurs. “My beautiful Theodora. Let me look at you.”
I always expected sex would make me nervous, but that’s not it. It’s the pure intimacy of the moment that shakes me to my core, that makes every nerve in my body tense up, that makes my heart pound uncontrollably in my chest.
Letting Zachary look at me means seeing the adoration in his eyes, the way his gaze softens, the way his eyes are dark with desire. When he kisses me, it’s not hard and hungry—it’s unhurried and tender.
He kisses my breasts like sunlight touching the petals of a rose. Wetness trickles through me as if my entire body is melting, the ache between my legs throbbing like a pulse. Zachary takes one nipple into his mouth, then the other, sucking on them both until they tighten under his tongue and my hips buck, rising of their own volition off the bed.
I want to tell him that I’m ready—that I’m readynow—but Zach isn’t in a hurry.
He licks my nipples and traces a line of kisses down my chest, across my belly. He caresses my ribcage, my waist, my hips. He kisses the skin over my hipbones, and he kisses me through my panties so delicately I’m forced to arch into him, seeking the friction I desperately need to find my release.
When Zach finally tugs on the waistband of my panties, rolling them down my legs, I let out a sigh of relief.Now, I want to say.Now.
I’ve been waiting for this for so long—I had no idea how much I wanted this until now. I had no idea how much I need Zach’s kisses, his mouth on my breasts, on my body—how much I need to feel him inside me.
Zach, though, doesn’t answer my urgency. He lifts my legs to kiss the crook of my knees, to kiss his way up my thighs, small, gentle, slow kisses, first one leg then the other. Each kiss is an electric shock of desire, a reminder of the release I so desperately need.
“Hurry,” I mutter, and frustration sends me rushing up against Zachary, mouth open on a demand, but he catches my face in his hands and kisses my open mouth.
“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this, how long I’veyearnedfor this?” He pulls away, his eyes boring into mine, daring me to look away. “I have no intention of hurrying—quite the opposite. You’ve tortured me with waiting, and now I’m going to take my sweet time. I’m going to admire and kiss every part of that gorgeous body of yours; I’m going to taste all those secret places you’ve never let anyone touch. I’m going to get on my knees and worship you, Theodora, with my hands and my mouth and every part of my body.” He pushes me back onto his bed and looks down at me with liquid fire in his eyes. “Now open your legs for me, my cruel goddess.”
Chapter 37
Complete Combustion
Zachary
Theodora’sbodyisapale map, and I place kisses on it like markers. The soft peaks of breasts, the pink glaciers of nipples, the creamy plains of belly and thighs and the ridges of ribs.
I mark them all with kisses like an explorer claiming new land.
I take my time, just like I told her I would, but it’s torture for me, too. I’m so hard I ache, and my need is devouring.
Part of me—a feral, primal part—wants nothing more than to pin her down and bury myself in her, to watch her squirm and tremble with the force of my thrusts, to watch her eyes roll to the back of her head as her mouth opens in a wild scream.
I know better than to listen to that part of me.
