Then Rick slid his tongue into her space and the sensation was a hot arrow piercing the neediest part of her. She tensed and cried out. Too loudly, but she couldn’t help it. How else could she tell him how wonderful this was?
Prince Charming was waking her with a kiss. Rather, he was sending her into a spasm of luscious pleasure. She could hardly believe this was happening. Could hardly believe she’d made it happen. Rick had given her the courage, in the way he looked at her, wanted her, even as he held himself back.
For the first time, she knew clearly what her painful yearning had been all about. It was no longer just a mental picture, a longed-for fantasy. Rick made it real. She knew what she wanted—Rick. She was safe with him. That fact was as vibrant and true as the sensations coursing through her body.
He thickened his tongue, cupped it around her clit and pressed on both sides of the sensitive flesh.
Her cries lapsed into unintelligible syllables and she gasped for air while Rick moved his lips and tongue slowly, then faster, at exactly the pace she needed.
She pivoted her hips, spread her legs, baring herself to him, wanting more and more. Do me. Keep doing me. Don’t ever stop doing me.
Then he sucked her tight and closed his teeth in a sweet pinch so abrupt and delicious that she rocketed off, exploding wildly, crying out, almost screaming.
Rick managed to stay with her, gripping her hips, fingers digging into her bottom, his warm breath on her, his tongue cupping her, while her climax went on and on, and she floated on clouds of ebbing pleasure that slowly faded away.
Rick pressed his lips to the inside of first one thigh, then the other, then kissed his way slowly up her body, while she shook and struggled for deep breaths.
“Omigod,” she said, lifting her head to look into his face. “That was amazing.” Better than her imagination for sure.
“Yeah,” he said, kissing her mouth. “It was.”
Her light musk on his lips reminded her how intimate this had been. He had pressed his tongue to her deepest need. She felt surprisingly close to him, connected, as if they’d been lovers for years, not just a few hot minutes.
She wanted to thank him. She wanted to cry. Which was silly, considering this had just been sex.
Besides, there was so much more to do. She had to touch Rick, taste him, too. “Now it’s your turn,” she said and reached for him through his pants.
He was thick behind his zipper under her fingers. His eyes flared with a fierce desire until he closed them, frowning, mouth taut, as if he were engaged in some intense internal battle.
She started on his belt, but he stopped her hand and opened his eyes. She saw that he’d dredged up some reserve of self-control. He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. He tried to smile, but his jaw quivered with the effort. “That was great,” he said tightly.
“We’re not stopping now,” she said. “You haven’t even—” Climaxed. Or been inside her. They’d barely started.
“I know.” But he reattached her bra, focusing in, as if he had to cover her up before he lost all restraint. “I shouldn’t have done that.” He found her skirt and slid it up her legs, watching her body as though he didn’t really want to cover it. “I got carried away.”
Lotta rules of conduct. That’s what his friend Mark had said about him. No hooking up at work for sure. That was probably the problem.
“I know we work together, Rick, but this doesn’t have to change anything,” she said, gripping his upper arms.
“It should,” he said, holding her gaze.
Maybe he thought she wanted more than she did. “I meant what I said. I really want just sex.”
“But I don’t.” He wrapped the cape around her, as though she were a package he was afraid he’d rip wide open. “I want more than that.”
“You’re kidding.” She sat up and looked at him.
“When I said there was someone else, it wasn’t exactly a lie. I haven’t met her yet, but she’s out there.”
“And you’re waiting for her?”
He nodded, his smile self-mocking. “Hard to believe, but, yeah, I want one woman for the rest of my life.”
She felt her jaw drop. Rick had rules, all right. And one of them was that sex mattered. It was sweet, really, and old-fashioned. And the worst thing in the world for her. She’d finally snagged her fantasy man and he wanted true love.
“I’m sorry I let that happen,” he said, the soft green of his eyes going muddy with guilt. “It wasn’t fair to you.”
“Fair? It was heaven. And it was my idea, remember?” There was something more here that bothered him. She didn’t understand it, but it made her feel guilty for dragging him onto her wanton couch—like the wicked, selfish Delilah, seducing the hapless Samson into his downfall.