“You must think I’m such a fool—”
“What I think,” he said gently, “is that it would be nice to find out what’s under that amazing T-shirt.”
She looked down at herself. A scowling Wonder Woman flew across her breasts in red, white and blue glory, ready to defend the world from evil.
“Oh,” Dawn said foolishly, “this.”
“Yeah. That.”
There was a smile in his words and, when she looked at his face, a hint of one on his lips. She’d never imagined people could joke about sex. It was nice that he could, even if he was impatient. He was waiting for her to get ou
t of her clothes. Harman had always just shoved up her nightgown. Or ripped it off, if he was drunk and angry and—
Gray’s hands closed on her wrists as she reached for the hem of the T-shirt. “Don’t think about him,” he said fiercely. “He isn’t here. This is our world, yours and mine.” His voice softened. “And I don’t want you to take that shirt off.” Slowly his eyes never leaving hers, he slid his hands under the shirt, trailed them up her bare skin. “I’ll do it.” He bent to her, nipped lightly at her throat. “I want to unwrap you.”
Unwrap her? What did that mean? She wasn’t a gift he’d found under the tree on Christmas morning, except—except that was how he was looking at her, as if she were a present, one he couldn’t wait to…
Her breath caught.
He touched her. Brushed the tips of his fingers up her spine. Just that. Only that. It made her knees buckle and she reached out, grasped his shirt and curled her fingers into the soft cotton.
“Your skin is like satin,” he whispered. “Soft. Smooth. Warm.”
A moan rose in her throat as he put his mouth against her skin again. Her head fell back; she felt the brush of his lips, the hot touch of his tongue, the quick, faint nip of his teeth.
“I love the taste of you. Sweet. Like cream. So rich and smooth…”
His hands slid down her spine, brushed lightly over her buttocks and she braced herself, waited for him to pull down her panties and push inside her. Instead he swept his hands up again, his fingers dancing lightly over her hips, her waist, her nipples. Oh God, her nipples. There. Just there. The lightest whisper of sensation over her nipples…
She moaned, and he kissed her while he touched her, stroked her, feathered his thumbs over the aching centers. When he clutched the hem of the shirt and drew it up, she lifted her arms to help him and swayed, unsteadily, after he’d bared her to his gaze.
“Dawn.”
He wanted to say more, tell her how beautiful she was, but his tongue was thick in his mouth. Besides, beautiful didn’t half describe her. She was everything he’d ever dreamed a woman could be, and more.
Her breasts were rounded and delicate; he knew they would just fill his palms. Her nipples were pale apricot, the tips pearling even before he stroked them. Her body was warming, coming alive to him, for him, and he could feel his own flesh swelling, rising, aching with need for her. Only for her, he thought fiercely, and he forced his gaze to her face, saw her parted lips, her glazed eyes—eyes glittering not with fear but with the awakening of desire.
“Do you like what I’m doing?” he said thickly.
She tried to answer. Couldn’t. Something was happening to her. She could feel her blood turning thick, beating hot and heavy through her body. And her breasts. They were—they were lifting. Hardening. Her nipples were growing tight. They ached. They wanted. She wanted. Wanted…
That. Oh, yes, that. Gray’s hands, cupping her breasts. Raising them even as he bent his head. Her body was waiting for this. This. Her breath hissed from her lungs as he tongued one hardened bud, then drew it into his mouth and suckled her. She was startled. She’d never known men did this to women, or that it could feel like this, like a bolt of lightning that speared from breast to belly. She ached. Throbbed. God oh God oh God…
Her cry rose into the silence of the room and Gray groaned against her flesh, told himself that it wasn’t possible for a man to come just because a woman dug her fingers into his hair, rose to his touch and his mouth, cried out in ecstasy, but if he didn’t hang on, that was what would happen, he’d never get inside her in time…
Think about something else, he told himself frantically. Tort law. Case law. Think about anything but this, the taste of her breasts, the feel of her belly under his hand, the way she trembled when he slid his fingers inside her panties, found her wet and hot, so hot…
He took her down with him into the softness of the bed. She was sobbing, whispering his name as he pulled off her panties, dipped his head and sucked at her nipples, found the damp satin petals he sought, found the flower they guarded, felt it bloom against his thumb and this time, when she cried out, arched toward him, eyes wide and blind, he crushed her mouth with his and drank in her cries, her pleasure, her surrender.
She fell back against the pillows and he lifted his head, watched her face, felt a fierce exaltation sweep through him. Mine, he thought, mine forever…
“Gray.” She held up her arms. “Gray.” Her voice broke. “Gray…”
He tore off his clothes, settled between her thighs, told himself to go slowly, enter her slowly. God, she was—she was… Hot. Tight. Wet. So wet. The breath hissed from his lungs as he eased inside her. He felt his body bead with sweat. What he wanted was to drive deep, put his mark on her in the most primitive way possible, but he knew not to hurt her or frighten her. What was she thinking? Feeling?
“Dawn.” He took her hands, wove his fingers through hers. “Sweetheart. Are you all right?”
She opened her eyes and looked up at him. He could see the shock on her face. His heart constricted; he waited for his flesh to follow suit but his body was flying on its own. No. No. She wasn’t ready. Slowly he began to withdraw. She whimpered, lifted her legs and wrapped them around his hips.