The lights go on in the suite automatically, illuminating the tasteful, elegant furnishings. Everything is cream on cream with a light blue accents and pewter finishes. I barely register them as I carry her into the bedroom, but then I force myself to slow down. Angling forward, I lay her on the bed and stand back. She blinks at me shyly, raising her hands to partially cover her face and push her hair back where it got tousled over her bright blue eyes. Reflexively, she draws her knees up and pulls them together.
“No, stop,” I tell her, holding her knees apart. “I want to look at you.”
Though I feel the resistance in her muscles, she tries to hold still. I step back, just far enough that I can see everything. Her smooth calves, her dimpled knees, the long, curving line of her thighs as they disappear into her skirt. The way her belly trembles when she breathes. The pink blush of her palms.
Still, I need more. I want to see more. I want to see everything. I reach forward and slide her skirt over her hips, baring her pretty panties, some kind of fabric with needlework decoration and tiny holes. I'm sure there's a word for that. I don't know what it is. She's shivers lightly but lets me expose her.
This is real, finally. Not a fantasy via text. Not some stranger, but real flesh and blood, a real connection. I'm so happy to be here with her, finally realizing the attraction that's already been there for so long.
This feels right, I have to admit to myself. And I can do better than I've done before. Things just didn't fit before, not the way that Dahlia does. I didn’t feel this kind of satisfaction just be in Trina's presence. Not like this, not like watching Dahlia lay across the bed with her legs open, her body arching and writhing in front of me, her hips pulsing because she is so eager for me to make her mine.
That's exactly what I need to do.
Chapter 19
Dahlia
It's almost unbearable, lying here while he stares at me. I want to curl into a ball, to jam my knees together, to roll over. I want to pull the blankets over me and hide myself.
But he's told me he wants to look at me, and I want to do whatever he wants. I force myself to relax, to let my legs fall open when he pushes on my knees. I try to remember that I've shown him this before, in fact. I sent him pictures.
Suddenly I sit up.
“August, I need to tell you something… something else.”
He takes a deep breath, narrowing his eyes slightly. His fingers trail down my calf and then hang loose next to his thigh.
“Dahlia, can it wait?” he asks. My eyes travel across his body noting the enormous bulge in his pants. My mouth begins to water, but I know what I have to do.
I have to do the right thing.
I draw my heels under me so that I sit, pretzel style.
“I heard what you said about honesty earlier. And I want to say this now, before we go… too far.”
“Too far?” he quirks an eyebrow at me. “Just how much further can we possibly go?”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning.
“I need to tell you…” I start again. “This feels… familiar. In fact, very familiar.”
He shakes his head, not understanding. “Familiar? What does that mean?”
I rock back and forth uncomfortably, looking for the right words. “You… wanting to look at me. Wanting to see me.”
His eyebrows knit together, a crease furrowing the middle of his forehead.
“You have… said those words to me before.”
I see his hands fall into fists, then relax slightly as though he just reminded himself not to tense up.
“Dahlia, I've never said those words to you before.”
I nod, a tight smile on my lips. “Actually, you have,” I insist gently. “Only… I don't know if you knew it was me.”
I'm afraid to say more, but I don't think he understands yet. My blood is racing in my veins, and I feel heat slashing through me. I hope he figures it out. I hope he doesn't make me explain every single bit of it.
“Tell me slowly,” he growls. His jaw clenches and the muscle there is as thick as a walnut. “Tell me exactly what you are talking about.”