"I didn't mean to wake you," he said softly.
"It's okay. I think I'd recognize your touch anywhere."
If it wouldn't have hurt his ego to admit it, he would've sworn his knees went weak with the way she looked at him.
"I was going to let you sleep," he said, pushing open the door and slipping inside the room. The lights were on low and the blinds were drawn.
"And now?" she asked curiously.
"And now I'm not," he said.
He was a simple man. The room was large and his space was clean. But it was a utilitarian space. The bed was large and the sheets and comforter were like a cloud of softness in simple neutrals. As in every home he'd ever had, he had no personal items or mementos. No photographs. It was just a room to sleep in. But he'd never had another woman in that bed, and that somehow seemed significant at the moment.
He let her down to her feet slowly, but kept her wrapped in his arms. And then he released her and tugged at the buttons of the soft dress shirts she favored.
"I need to put my hands on you," he rasped.
"Isn't that what you're doing?"
"Not nearly enough." He spread the shirt wide and let it fall from her shoulders. Her bra was white and plain-no frills-but it seduced him like nothing else ever had. He opened the button on her jeans and pushed them down over her hips and to the floor.
"The undressing part always seems sexier in the movies," she said. "I wish I was wearing something else."
"Believe me," he said, drinking in the sight of her long, lean body. "You're not standing where I'm standing. Nothing could be sexier."
He lifted her in his arms and carried her over to the bed. The lights over the bed were dimmed and cast her in a soft glow as he lay her down. Her hair fanned around her face like a flame, and her eyes were steady on his as he came down on top of her.
There was no hurry. No rush of hands. Only the simple need to savor and taste every inch of her. He never took his eyes off hers as he leaned in to kiss her-sweetly, softly-and his hands twined with hers. His mouth moved down to her neck, and he felt her pulse leap and quicken. And then he went farther still and took her cotton-covered breast in his mouth, dampening the fabric and feeling her nipple bead tautly.
She arched beneath him and her fingers tightened on his. And then she went limp and her grip fell from his as he continued to kiss his way down her body. He nipped at her hip and tugged at the elastic waist of the cotton that was all that was left between them, pulling it down so she was bared to him.
Need slammed into him, the scent of her enticing him. A barely restrained groan escaped her throat, and her nails dug into the sheets as his mouth found her and devoured. She tasted of liquid sunshine and nectar, and her legs wrapped around him so her heels pressed into his upper back. Her fingers tangled in his hair, and her hips writhed against his mouth. Her cry of release echoed in the room, and he tasted the rush of her pleasure as he savored every drop of her.
He no longer had patience. The need for her clawed inside of him and had to escape. He kicked off his shoes and tugged his shirt over his head. And tossed his jeans in a heap on the floor. His body was tense and his cock rock hard and aching.
He grabbed a condom from the nightstand and rolled it on. Then he knelt on the bed between her legs and came over her. She lay before him, panting, her body flushed and still yearning for more. Her lips were swollen, and he could see the marks from his beard across her skin. Her skin was so sensitive, and he ran two fingers down her neck and chest, causing her to shiver. He flicked the front clasp of her bra and she shrugged out of it, so she was completely naked. She shivered as he lowered himself and took a small nipple in his mouth.
"Please," she begged. "Hurry."
"I was in a hurry," he said, taking his time. "But I've found I have a renewed sense of patience. I like seeing you writhe beneath me."
Her legs hooked around his hips, trying to pull him forward, but he held back, only the head of his cock brushing against the curls between her thighs.
"Just remember that turnabout's fair play," she panted. "As soon as I recover I'll have you begging for more."
He chuckled low and found her opening, wet and ready for him, and he pushed-just a little-so she was stretched around him but not fulfilled. A scream of frustration tore from her throat, and her green eyes blazed as she glared up at him.
"Deacon," she panted.
"Yes, baby?"
She leaned up and bit his bottom lip, surprising him, and then whispered, "Fuck me."
Any semblance of control was shattered at those two little words. He plunged inside of her, and they moved together as if there had only been the two of them since the dawn of time. Sighs mingled with gasps of pleasure, and he felt her tighten, felt the spasms start deep within her.