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“Then I believe it’s time to take it off. Come.”
My breathing quickens at his order.Come. Like I’m some damned dog. Worse, his belonging. A slave to command.
But I do it because that’s exactly what I’ve turned myself into. I was left with no other choice.
I stand in front of him, doing my best to mentally prepare for the assault I know is coming. Our gazes lock and I’m sure he’s going to kiss me. Going to use his ability to daze me to ensure I remain compliant.
But he doesn’t.
“Turn around,” he says instead.
“What?”
He lifts a finger and motions for me to turn. When I do and am facing the bed, he reaches for my hand and places it on the zipper pull at the base of my neck. It’s a large tab that my fingers can easily hold.
“This is the reason I chose the gown,” he says.
“So that you can undress me faster?” I ask sarcastically.
He chuckles, his gravelly voice doing that thing it does to me, low in the pit of my belly. “Tug the zipper down.”
I blink and swallow hard. With fingers that are suddenly slippery, I pull down on the zipper. But even with my trembling, I’m able to easily open the back of my dress.
Rowan moves closer, the fabric of his pants grazing my legs. “I did it so that you could undressyourselffaster should something out of my control have happened. The dress is ugly, Lou. But you…” He places his large warm palm on the bare skin of my back and I suddenly can’t breathe. “You are such a beautiful thing.”
He keeps his hand on me, roving it over my flesh so slowly, as if he’s savoring every second. All the while, I’m staring at the bed, shaking like a fucking leaf, more terrified than the day he took my virginity. Maybe it’s because he’s about to take something much more valuable to me now. My dignity.
Leaning in, he murmurs against my neck, “And so soft.”
Then, with both hands, he pushes the sleeves of the dress down, exposing my shoulders. I grab the bodice before it falls, holding it against my chest protectively.
“I like your hair short, Lou. Better access to your neck.” He bites me there, hard, restraining me from moving, the way he knows I loved.
To my detriment, it still works on me. I shut my eyes and bite my lower lip in a sad attempt to stop the moan that escapes me. It just comes out more heated. More needy.
If that wasn’t enough to reveal what he does to me, I grind my ass into his hardness, an automatic reaction to the domineering move.
He snakes one arm around my waist and pushes the fabric of the dress down farther, exposing more of me. Giving him more terrain on which to do battle with my senses. To destroy them.
“Stop calling me Lou,” I say breathlessly, dropping my head to the side as he makes his way to my shoulder, nipping, kissing, licking. “It makes me sound like a middle-aged man. Like your Uncle Lou.”
Again, he laughs. “I never had an Uncle Lou. If I had, I certainly would never have touched him like this.”
Turning me to face him, he takes in the sight of my fists holding the dress up. Excitement and desire mingle in his expression as he gathers some of the material himself and tugs it downward until I’m forced to release it.
Then I’m standing in front of him in only my white bra and lacy thong, the dress a puddle on the floor. Easy prey to his hungry eyes.
Rowan drops to his knees in front of me. Then, almost reverently, he drags my bra straps to my elbows, bringing the whole thing down to my waist.
“Are your nipples as sensitive as they used to be?” He gives me a mischievous look as he leans in and takes one of them into his mouth.
I nearly fall back at the feel of it, but he catches me. His large hands keep me in place as he toys with me, flicking the hardened peak, biting it.
He moves to my left and takes that nipple into his mouth too. I can’t help the moans that escape me. Nor do I have control of my fingers as they thrust into his hair to hold him to me or the need building in my core.
Abruptly, he pulls away, leaving me swaying toward him, confused and cold.
Standing, he shrugs out of his coat and tie. “Sit,” he orders, pointing a finger at the bed.
