He had to exert control. She was innocent. He was almost afraid to touch her. Not sure if he could control himself. He uttered a silent curse. He’d never felt on edge like this before.
‘Take off my shirt.’
When she moved forward her own shirt opened more, and the tantalising curves of her bare breasts were visible through the open material.
He had to curl his hands into fists to stop himself from reaching out. And then she was grappling with his buttons, painstakingly slowly, undoing them one by one. Her fingers brushed against his hot skin in tantalisingly fleeting caresses.
Zac gritted his jaw. When he saw the tip of her tongue dart out, and the way she bit her lower lip in concentration, a bead of sweat broke out on his forehead. Her small hands were near his belt now, and he couldn’t stand it any more. He took her hands in his and lifted them up, pressing a kiss to the centre of each palm.
Something in his chest squeezed tight again when he felt the slight roughness that told of her menial work. He felt incensed that she should have to do this, and hated himself in that moment for having always been with women who spent more money on the
ir manicures than Rose probably saw in a year.
He dropped her hands and let them go, then yanked his shirt out of his trousers, pulling it off and letting it drop to the ground.
Her eyes were on his chest, wide and intent. Her cheeks flushed with colour. He could see her clench one hand into a fist, as if to stop herself from touching him, and he reached for it and brought it up, uncurling her fingers and placing it in the centre of his chest.
Her touch was cool, but it burned hotter than the most seductive caress. She looked up at him and he took his hand away, and hesitantly she started to explore. Tracing the muscles under his skin. When her nail scraped a nipple he sucked in a breath and his erection jerked in his pants. He’d never known how sensitive he was there.
‘Did I hurt you?’
He shook his head and marvelled at the genuinely concerned look on her face. ‘No—the opposite.’
The flush on her face deepened. Her hands were drifting down now, over his abdomen and lower. She was going to kill him. She reached for his belt and looked up, as if asking for permission.
He just nodded. Rendered speechless.
She undid it and then opened the button above the zip. Zac felt almost embarrassed at the prominent bulge in his pants.
Rose’s head was down, her bright hair falling forward. Wilder than the other night, it was the most unusual colour. Blonde but with russet tones. He wondered if the unusual colour was natural. He would know for sure when he saw—
He stifled a gasp of pure pleasure/pain. She was lowering his zip now, her knuckles brushing against the swell of his arousal.
She looked up again and he gently took her hands away, muttering, ‘I won’t last if you keep touching me like that.’
‘I’m sorry.’
Zac shook his head and cupped her jaw, tipping her face up. How could she not know what she was doing to him? Because she was innocent.
He grimaced slightly. ‘Don’t be.’
He let her go again to pull down his trousers, letting them drop to the floor. He stepped out of them and said, ‘I want to see you.’
She bit her lip again for a moment and then brought her hands to her shirt, peeling it off slowly until it fell to the ground. Her breasts were still bared, and erotically upthrust by the underwired frame of her bra. Zac marvelled that he’d seen far more debauched states of undress on women, but this was possibly the most sensual thing he’d ever experienced.
She brought her hands behind her and undid her bra, and it too fell to the ground. Her high, perfectly formed breasts were now bared completely to his ravenous gaze. A small, hard, pink nipple topped each one. The darker pink of her areolae was puckered. His mouth watered. He wanted to taste them again.
She brought her arms up to cover herself. Gently he pulled them down.
‘You are beautiful.’
‘No one’s ever seen me like this before.’
Blood thrummed in Zac’s body at this further confirmation that he was the first man who would know her intimately. He ignored the tiny dim cynical voice that mocked him for being so easily entranced. He was losing it.
‘Thank you for trusting me.’
Something flashed in her eyes then, but it was gone so quickly he thought he must have imagined it. Because it had almost looked like guilt. And why would she be guilty?