No, a lot of privacy unless the dog came bounding up the stairs.
There was no door to his bedroom. The staircase simply ended and there it was.
She was trying to take in more details but Stone pulled her in an embrace and she forgot the rest. Her body responded, tingling all over. She was ready. One niggling thought in the back of her mind was that she couldn’t believe this moment was finally happening. She’d wanted Stone for so long, and here they were now—together, getting ready to join for the first time.
Not the last, she hoped.
He kissed her neck and she let all the air out of her lungs as a new shiver traveled up her spine. He didn’t stop there, though. His fingers were already undoing the buttons on the filmy shirt while his lips moved down past her collarbone. He kissed her cleavage as his fingers continued their journey down. She let out a gasp and grabbed fistfuls of his hair, so glad it was long and she had something to hold onto. She needed something to grab hold of because she was feeling desperate…out of control, a feeling she’d tried to avoid in her adult life.
It was happening now, though, and it wasn’t completely terrifying. She just had to give herself over to Stone—and find a way to trust him.
The flimsy blouse was off her shoulders, held on only by the crooks in her elbows and the fact that she wasn’t willing to let go of Stone’s hair—not yet, anyway. He wasn’t waiting for her, though. He was pulling up on her tank top from the bottom, his lips on her belly, and she realized he was almost on his knees. He was moving so goddamned fast, and physically she could keep up. Mentally, though, she was blown away, gone, and just trying to tread water. She was flooded with emotion, including some weird fight-or-flight sensation in the pit of her gut. Yeah, too many emotions—not just base desire, but a feeling of connectedness, anticipation, joy…and fucking fear. Yes, fear, and she had no idea where it was coming from, but it threatened to overwhelm all else.
She tried to focus on the sensations her body was sending her—everything that was purely and only physical. She needed to ground herself somehow, because the back of her mind felt like a tiny rabbit ready to bolt. Her skin was super-sensitive, and she loved the feeling of Stone’s iron hands—one on her hip, the other touching the center of her chest at her cleavage. His soft lips were kissing her belly just below his hand until he started tracing the skin with his tongue, and she let out a moan. Yeah, the physical stuff was hard to beat. He let go of her tank top, sliding that hand underneath and touching her breast. She’d debated earlier that evening about whether she wanted to wear a bra or not and had opted against it. Now, she was glad she’d made that decision, because she wanted him to touch her. She sucked in another breath of air as her nipple hardened under his fingers. As he pushed the tank top up, he kissed his way up the curve of her small breast, replacing his fingers with his tongue until he drew her nipple into his mouth.
Too fast again. She felt Stone’s other hand move from her hip to the front of her jeans where he wrestled with the button until it popped loose. Her breathing was shallow now, and she felt like she couldn’t pull the air into her lungs quickly enough. Fortunately, he shifted gears, standing up and pulling her close again, kissing her on the lips. He lifted her up then and she spread her legs around his body to help. He brought her to the bed and let her go until her feet touched the floor again.
She needed to regain a sense of security, of awareness, and she thought maybe turning the tables a bit would help. She grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt and began pulling it up. His eyes were focused on hers, drilling holes into her head with their focus. She didn’t mind being the object of his desire, but he was intense. She felt like she couldn’t catch her breath. Stone grabbed the shirt and pulled it over his head and then immediately got to work on hers. Her button-down shirt had already dropped to the floor but her tank still clung to her frame. He pulled it over her head while she raised her arms, but her eyes shifted their focus.
Oh, God, the man was beautiful. His chest was covered in ink from neck to navel. There were only a couple of spots where his skin showed through. The rest, though, was proudly tattooed. Some tats were words and others were pictures. A lot of them, though, were connecting designs in between the individual tattoos to give them a sense of harmony and belonging, almost like quilting—artistry meant to unify each individual piece to make them part of a whole. She could barely even appreciate the definition in the muscles or the pierced nipple, because she was busy taking in the canvas he wore. And the colors…God, the colors.