Kincaid reared up on his knees, reaching over his head to drag his shirt off. He tossed it aside, revealing a massive chest sprinkled with dark hair. Scars marred his smooth skin here and there, and Ava lay back in pliant surrender as she looked her fill. She'd seen naked men before, but not like this. The reality of Kincaid in the flesh was quite shocking. She knew what his mech arm looked like, and the ragged, puckered scar where the limb had been taken didn't so much mar him as enhance the dangerous perfection of him. But it was the rest of him that made her eyes round.
He wasn't built like the men she knew, with narrow hips and broad shoulders that tapered to a V at the waist. He was huge, with hard knotted cords of muscle that raked his abdomen, and a deeply chiseled V at the hips that plunged into his trousers. The firm press of his erection left her slightly breathless. Hidden away, it still seemed enormous and vaguely threatening.
Ava swallowed.
All that stood between them was her flimsy nightgown and his trousers. And suddenly it wasn't enough.
"Nervous?" he whispered, leaning over her, one hand on either side of her head.
The bed dipped beneath her. "No."
"Liar." A chuckle ripped through him as he leaned down, nuzzling at her jaw. "One of the things I like most about you, sweetheart, is the fact you can't hide a damned thing from me."
His kiss tickled. She shivered, her hands drawn up between them, hovering there indecisively.
She couldn't stop thinking of that image in the gallery, of the man's straining erection. Her cheeks burned.
"You're not ready," Kincaid murmured, his lips skating across her cheek, then her lips.
What? She most certainly was. "I-"
"So we'll play tonight," he continued, as if she hadn't spoken, "but I'm not taking you."
"You promised."
He lowered himself onto one elbow, pressing between her thighs again as he took her hand and opened her palm over his chest. "And we'll get there, gorgeous." His breath stirred the tiny hairs along the side of her ear. "But there's no rush. You wanted passion, not just to lose your maidenhead. So I'll give you passion, Ava." His mouth opened over her lips, his hand encouraging hers to explore the hard plane of his chest. "Tell me... what was your favorite painting?"
"Painting?"
"I know the answer," he whispered, capturing her mouth in a harsh kiss that stole her breath. Her hand was trapped between them, his chest pressing against her breasts. "You liked it... when he kissed her."
Kissed her? She couldn't remember seeing anything quite so innocent as that.
But Kincaid's other hand was moving, dragging her nightgown up, its hem skating over her sensitive thighs, and suddenly she knew what he was referring to.
Not a kiss on the mouth.
But there....
Her eyes shot wide and he was smiling down at her, looking so very, very wicked. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"
"Now?" she blurted.
"Now," he confirmed, and laced his fingers between hers, pressing her hand back onto the bed.
The time for exploring was over.
She'd barely even gotten the chance to touch him, but that didn't matter, for he was certainly interested in doing some touching of his own....
Ava arched her spine, alternatively shrinking beneath him and grinding against him as his hips flexed against her. That heavy weight was no longer pressed unthreateningly against her leg. It lined up right between her thighs, the insistent rub leaving her wide-open and vulnerable. There was another tug, and her nightgown slipped up and suddenly there was nothing but her drawers between her and the slick rasp of his buttons.
Blood and ashes. Ava didn't realize she was curling her fingers through his until pain bit through her wrist, and then she looked up and he was looking down at her, an intense look of focus in those eyes, as though he could see every flicker of need that crossed her face.
Kincaid bit her throat and it set every nerve in her body alight, his dull teeth driving into her bare skin. Ava cried out, halfway to destroyed. She didn't know what she wanted, but more... just more of it.
"That's it, kitten."
He brushed the neckline of her nightgown aside, revealing her breast. Ava's bare nipple ached. She'd never had a man's eyes on her, not like this. Kincaid captured the aching peak between his lips, and she cried out as his rough tongue circled her nipple.
Then he drew back.
His hips shifted, his cock riding over her clitoris, and suddenly she sobbed, so wound up she felt like she might erupt into a whirlwind of movement. "What are you doing?" The words tore from her lips.