He reached for me and stilled my hands before I could show him the underwear, too. His mouth curved in a reluctant and wicked grin. He split his attention between my lips and eyes. “You are very bad.”
“Am I?” Once again, I felt abruptly winded. “I’m stunned. I thought I was very good.”
“Oh, you’re good.” His eyebrows bounced once and his voice deepened to a rumble. “You’re just also very bad.”
“What are you going to do about it?” I couldn’t wait to find out.
Holding my gaze and towering over me, he gained the step I’d taken, then several more until my back connected with a large tree trunk. He placed his hands on either side of my legs and lifted the skirt, his fingertips connecting with the skin just above my stockings. With an achingly light touch, he drew small circles on my legs, inching the skirt higher and higher until I was breathless with anticipation.
“You’re going to be my girl,” he growled, nipping at my jaw.
“No.” I shook my head, evading his mouth and correcting with, “I’m going to be your woman.”
He grinned again, that predatory flash I’d seen earlier returned. His eyes dropped to my breasts where they were pressed against his chest. “Does the bra match, too?”
I nodded. He groaned, capturing my mouth with a searing, urgent kiss.
His hands drifted higher on my thighs, sending sparks of heat shooting up my spine and low in my belly. Moving his fingers to the front, he encouraged me to spread my legs with his knee. His knuckles rubbed lightly back and forth over my center, still covered in white lace. Hot and needy, I tilted my hips forward as my head fell back, my hands fisting in his shirt, and I gasped for air.
“You’re so beautiful.” He sounded awed, out of breath. I opened my eyes, wanting to see him, and found his gaze devouring, cherishing. “You’re a fantasy.”
“I assure you, I’m very real.” My hands stroked down the front of his chest, enjoying how his body, still sadly encased in clothing, tightened under my fingertips as my touch drifted lower. When I reached his belt he caught my wrist and bent his head to my neck.
“Don’t,” he growled. “I want you.” The words were tortured, as much an admission as a warning.
And the ferocity of his statement sobered me, woke me from the impassioned thoughtlessness of my actions. Because as much as I’d planned to flirt and tease him into agreeing to see me again, I hadn’t planned on this. The force of my longing, this intoxicating pull between us, the internal debate warring within me—have sex against the tree or have sex on the ground? It’s not that dirty . . .
Yes?
Please?
Who was this woman? I didn’t even recognize myself.
At most I thought maybe we’d make out, kiss a lot, grope a little. I hadn’t been prepared for what it would be like to actually be touched by him. As with all things, Jethro was capable, straightforward, and in control . . . until his control had slipped, and so had mine, and desperation and passion threatened to overtake sense.
So I swallowed and closed my eyes, made myself breathe in and out, and brought my hands to his shoulders. I tried to ignore the hard length of him pressing against my stomach.
“We should take things slow.” The statement meant to convince us both. As we’d just agreed, this wasn’t a fling, not for either of us. We had plenty of time.
He nodded once, kissing the skin beneath my ear and making me squirm. Withdrawing his fingers from between my legs, Jethro gripped my thighs, his hands still under my skirt, as though he couldn’t bring himself to stop touching me.
Eventually, he lifted his head. The friction of his beard, paired with his hot breath against the exposed skin of my neck, left me trembling.
Jethro studied me with a heavily-lidded gaze, and I almost took back my words of caution. Almost. Because his stare seemed dark with dirty thoughts.
I was curious. So, so, so curious. So I demanded, “Write it down.”
“Pardon?” His voice was gravelly, somnolent as though I’d woken him.
“Whatever you’re thinking right now, write it down. Because when the time comes, we should totally do that.”
His eyes moved between mine, dazed lust giving way to amusement. “Really? Even if it involves the sex swing in my dungeon?”
I wagged my eyebrows and—again because I couldn’t help myself—pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Most especially if it involves the sex swing in your dungeon.”
CHAPTER 20
“If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them.”