“Sweet Christ.”
“I hope that’s good.”
“So good.” His eyes seemed even more intense in the dim light. As if there were shadows living in them. Some that made me wonder beyond my own selfish needs.
But others—like the heat growing between us—pushed away the pesky thoughts of reality.
His fingertips trailed up my middle. That was an area where things weren’t as tight as I wished some days. I baked and liked to eat my own cooking. But wonder filled his expression, not exasperation or disdain.
He lightly traced the lace of my forest green bra. I’d worn the one set of underwear I owned that wasn’t made of cotton and designed to be purely functional. I’d specifically bought it to match this dress and this night. For the wild, sexy Hannah I wished I could be, not the careful woman who spent too many hours dreaming up recipes and food combinations.
I wanted to be an adventurous woman who took exactly what she needed.
My head tipped back as he made lazy circles around my tightening nipple before plucking one lightly, then the other. Just that brief touch left me breathless.
It wasn’t me fumbling in the dark when the nights got too lonely.
This was a real man touching me. Wanting me.
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Suddenly, warmth blossomed over the lace followed by a strong, sure pull from his lips. His tongue pressed against the lace, wetting it and making it malleable enough for me to feel every movement he made.
My fingers slid into his hair. The short hairs tickled as I grasped enough to hold him in place. I didn’t need to worry—he wasn’t stopping. No, he was more than happy to keep going with his light touches chased by little nips of his straight white teeth gleaming in the darkness.
I couldn’t look away as his laser focus became my lifeline. A rhythm only he seemed to understand and I ached to figure out.
Each pull from his teeth and mouth arrowed down between my thighs. When I swayed, he caught me, when I tried to back away from the intensity, he pushed for more.
I threw back my shoulders as he opened the clasp on my bra. I should’ve been worried that they weren’t as perky without all the support, but his jaw tightened as he cupped them together and met my gaze.
“Fucking beautiful. You were made for firelight. Made for me.” He swung me up in his arms and strode over to the fireplace. On the way there, he looked around.
“Bed?” It was pretty big. Not sure how he could’ve missed it.
Especially since I was the one who’d had the bubbly.
Speaking of, had Sage forgotten to send up our requested bottle? Or was it waiting for us in the hall?
Not that I intended to stop long enough to find out.
“No. I need you spread out just as I said. In front of that fire where I can worship this lush, perfect body.”
I swallowed. “Oh, boy.”
One corner of his mouth tipped up. “Are you amenable to that plan?”
“Is there a contract to go with it? Where do you need me to sign?”
He laughed. “Maybe just that condom in your stash.”
“Bag.” I pointed to the mint paisley bag on the floor by the bed.
He rerouted to that side of the room and lowered me enough to grab it without putting me down. I dug into the little side compartment and dropped the bag again. Two condoms would need to be enough.
Please God.
As he passed the bed, I snatched the throw blanket at the bottom. He laid me gently on the floor, then grabbed the pillows off the bed and scattered them behind me. He knelt over me, his dress pants hugging him from thigh to knee and more importantly, just along his zipper.