“I’m tired…”
“Elizabeth.” His voice was faintly chiding now. “Do you think I’m going to hurt you? Even now?”
She shook her head. No. She knew he wasn’t going to hurt her. At least, not deliberately. It wasn’t the pain she feared now, it was the closeness developing between them. It had become a bond she didn’t understand and one she feared she would never escape.
“Come on.” He held his hand out to her. “We’ll hear Cassie if she wakes up.”
She took a deep, steady breath. She had known the time would come when they would have to talk. Had known there would be so many things to decide. But why did she regret it? Why did she suddenly wish the world would just go away and leave her and Dash alone, surrounded by darkness, flaming with heat? But it wouldn’t. And now was the time to deal with it.
Chapter Eleven
Elizabeth followed him into his bedroom, suddenly nervous, too aware of Dash as a man and too aware of the needs flaming to life in her body. It had been so long since she had felt any need to be touched, any interest in a man. But the year Cassie had written to Dash, Elizabeth had been interested, as greedy for the letters as her daughter had been. The loss of that fragile connection had been missed not just by Cassie, but her mother as well.
She knew when he drew her into the bedroom what was coming. Knew when he closed his door and went to the intercom installed between the two rooms what he intended. He turned on the receiver only. Elizabeth licked her lips nervously.
“This might be a bad idea,” she whispered as he turned back to her.
She could easily read the intent in his gaze, the sexual hunger radiating in his large body. If a man could devour a woman with his eyes alone, then Elizabeth considered herself devoured.
“Might be.” He walked to her purposely, never taking his eyes off her as her breathing began to increase.
“Dash, it might be a very bad idea.” She was breathing roughly as she glanced down, seeing how the denim hugged a more than impressive bulge.
He was aroused and ready. A man who had put aside his need for as long as he could, and Elizabeth feared she would never find the strength to deny him once he touched her.
Her eyes flew back to his face as he stopped in front of her. His lips were tilted in a wry little smile.
“I only had to look at you and you knew I needed to touch you,” he whispered darkly. “I came in to say goodnight, Elizabeth, that was all. I looked at you and I saw the need to touch. Nothing more, baby. A few kisses, a little petting. Because that’s all you need right now. All you can handle, I think.”
She drew in a hard breath, bitterness filling her.
Elizabeth smiled mockingly. “I don’t need your pity, Dash.”
She couldn’t handle that from him. She had fought the need to feel sorry for herself and to sink into the pits of her own self-sorrow for too many years. She wouldn’t let him drag her into it now. She didn’t want his sympathy. She turned and headed for the door, only to have him grip her arm, pulling her against his hard body as he stared down at her with dark eyes.
“Was that pity you held in your hand the other morning, Elizabeth?” he asked her softly as she flushed in embarrassment. “If I’m not mistaken, it was my cock. Full and hard and ready to fuck the hell out of you. That’s not pity, baby. And neither is this.”
His lips didn’t ask for anything. His tongue didn’t seek permission. He covered her lips, plunged his tongue into her mouth and took without asking. It couldn’t be called a kiss. It was a devouring, a feast of the senses, and Elizabeth was helpless against it. He bent her over his arm, arching her hips against his as he lifted her to her toes, pressing his thick, jeans-covered erection into the vee of her thighs as he gave her a taste of the hunger to come with his kiss.
She couldn’t breathe. She didn’t want to breathe. Her hands gripped his shoulders as small mewling sounds of hunger rose in her chest. Elizabeth could feel her body catching fire, her nipples, her clit, her vagina throbbing, aching for his touch, for the sensual devouring he was practicing on her lips.
His tongue plunged in and out of her mouth, mimicking a much more sexual act as his hands moved over her back, her hips. They were never still. Stroking her, caressing her body until one moved purposely up her side, cupping the swollen mound of her breast.
Elizabeth jerked at the sensation of his fingers suddenly gripping her nipple, milking it, rasping over it. Electric darts of almost agonizing pleasure ripped through her stomach and shot to her womb with a punch of sensation.
She cried out into his kiss, her hands clawing his shoulders, adrift now in a pleasure that threatened to consume her. In her sexual lifetime she had never known anything like it. Had never tasted such a dark kiss, one that warned her he had no intention of making allowances for sensual inexperience. He was hungry. Needy. And she was the meal he craved.
She had never felt her cunt clench, spasm, with such desperate need. All thoughts of danger receded. The situation, so fraught with desperation until Dash arrived, was swept from her mind. There was only Dash. Only his arms holding her, his fingers tugging at her nipple, his tongue sweeping through her mouth like a sexual marauder intent on conquest.
Elizabeth moaned into the kiss, her tongue twining with his, helpless against the sweeping sensations working through her body. She was only barely aware of him bending, lifting her into his arms and moving her to the bed. He didn’t release her mouth. And every now and then she swore he growled against her lips. The sound was hot, blistering with hunger, and sent juices flooding her pussy.
She was going up in flames. She swore she was going to climax from his kiss alone.
As he laid her back on the bed, he released her slowly, his lips sipping from hers hesitantly as he finally broke the connection. Elizabeth lifted her eyelids drowsily, staring up at him, her breath catching as she saw him quickly unbutton his shirt then strip it from his broad shoulders. His hands were strong and wide, lightly calloused and so warm. Elizabeth realized she was almost shaking now with the need to have him caress her, to peel the robe and gown from her body. She wanted him to touch her, stroke her with those demanding hands.
And he did. Staring down at her, his hands went to the belt of her robe. His lips covered hers again, his tongue pushing into her mouth as she moaned in hunger. He made her hungry. Hungry for every kiss, every touch.
Elizabeth arched beneath him as she felt the robe part, felt his fingers at the tiny buttons that ran down the front of her gown.