“Turn over.” He released her hands, turned her over and unzipped her dress, pulled it off her shoulders and unhooked her bra.
Oh, yes. Forget breathing, now they were getting somewhere.
She waited impatiently for him to finish undressing her, for his hands to slide under her breasts, for his body weight on top of her, for the nudge of his erection searching for her opening from behind.
Instead his hands landed on her back and began stroking, top to bottom, bottom to top, following her muscles, his touch light at first, then increasing in pressure. Slowly, sensually, he massaged her. She lay waiting, unsure of what was happening, wanting to know when he’d turn this sexual.
“Relax, Addie.” He started on the long muscles next to her spine, smoothing them, spending time on the knots, one inch at a time, kneading and loosening. Then her deltoids, her upper back, around her shoulder blades—light strokes, then deeper, singling out muscles and insisting they let go. On and on he worked until her breathing became even and deep without her trying. Her eyes closed, her world dwindled to his touch and the wonderful sensations in her body. She hadn’t realized how much tension she’d been carrying until he decided it had to go.
“Better?” His stroking became light again; he drew the tips of his fingers over the skin on her back, covering every inch, then laid his hand in the center and pressed gently.
Addie was nowhere near where she’d been only half an hour before. She felt as if she’d gained ten pounds. Her body would leave an Addie-shaped crater in the mattress that would never rebound. But...very strangely, her heart and spirits had sunk down from their high, first to normal, and then into an odd free fall she didn’t want to examine just then.
“Thank you,” she mumbled. “That was wonderful.”
“You’re welcome.” He pressed a kiss to her shoulder.
“Except I don’t think I’ll ever be able to move again.”
“Darn.” He kissed the small of her back, the top of each buttock, then nudged her legs open, burrowed his face down and kissed between them.
Addie’s eyes shot open, her dismay dissolving. “Um...”
“Yes?” His tongue joined in what his lips had started.
“Well...” She inched her legs farther apart. “Maybe I can move a little.”
“Mmm.” He took advantage of the new space she’d given him. His tongue was very warm and very wet and she was getting very, very hot in spite of the near stupor he’d put her in. She responded to him so strongly. It wasn’t just his tongue, it was the reverent way he tasted her, the brush of his hand on her thigh, the small murmurs here and there that let her know he was making love to her as a whole woman even while touching only one special part.
A minute later he stopped and Addie felt him leave the bed. The sound of clothes being removed got one of her eyes open again. She rolled over to watch him, heart still strangely heavy.
Tie first. Derek tugged it off with practiced ease and tossed it onto the room’s chair. Shoes and socks next—he took care of those standing on one foot without overbalancing. Trousers. Addie nodded appreciatively as his strong, muscular thighs came into view. Shirt unbuttoned, off. T-shirt. Off. His chest was broad and defined without being over-pumped. His abs ditto, a muscular washboard she wanted to drag herself over repeatedly.
Boxers off, and her man was naked, putting on a condom, climbing back onto the bed. She reached for him. “Welcome back.”
“Nice to be back.” He positioned himself over her, stroking her hair, gazing into her eyes. Addie’s heart rose to meet him. It had no choice.
Then Derek kissed her, over and over again, softly, sweetly, firm lips exploring and tasting. Addie felt the last of her giddy wildness leaving, replaced by deep emotions that both filled and frightened her.
He reached down to prepare her then slid inside, taking his time, pushing in slowly. When he’d buried his last inch, he paused. Looking into his eyes she felt the most powerful connection she’d ever known, and out of that bliss, out of that loving, wonderful certainty, came understanding of a deeper, painful truth that she’d soon have to face.
He began to move, slow thrusts, slow retreats, pausing in between. Her arousal grew sharply, but he held his pace and she lay still, letting him take the lead, running her hands over the smooth firmness of his back, tracing the rounded muscle of his buttocks, cupping the hard swells of his shoulders, biceps and triceps, indulging every sensation, keeping her mind carefully blank.