“You have my word, Sarah.” He lifts a hand and strokes his fingers along the side of my face. “Do you really need anything else?”
I’m thinking I probably do, but instead I just turn my face against his touch. His fingers are warm. I know from experience now that he knows just how to touch me. He’ll have me going crazy in five minutes if I stop fighting myself.
“Maybe,” I say. “We can talk about it later.”
His thumb traces over my lower lip. I’m still stunned at how good it feels to let him have his way with me. It’s not just that he knows how to play a woman’s body—he knows how to play my body, and how he figured that out so fast is anybody’s guess.
He smiles and leans forward to kiss me. “Later is good,” he says just before his lips touch mine. The kiss is gentle but filled with promise. Not of affection or any sort of emotion, but of heat. His tongue traces the seam of my mouth, and every cell in my body knows he’s going to set me on fire.
The kiss goes deeper, until he’s exploring my mouth with his tongue, claiming it in a way he hasn’t before. It’s like he knows he can do anything he wants now, so he’s not wasting time taking anything slow and easy. His hand moves down between my legs, fingers pressing against my thighs. That’s when I draw back a little.
“No,” I tell him.
“No?” His fingers slide farther between my legs, pressing hard against my crotch. “I’m not sure ‘no’ should be part of your vocabulary right now.”
I give him a look. “Not here. Take me to bed.”
His eyes narrow, then he smiles. “All right. I suppose it’s only fair.”
He bends to pick me up and carries me toward the stairs. He’s conceding to my request, but he’s also reminding me of his strength, of the control he has over me. It’s fine, I tell myself. My stomach’s fluttering, but the anxiety is a turn-on. I don’t like to admit that, even to myself, but it’s true. I’m a little bit afraid of him, and not only is that not a problem for me, but it’s actually making me that much hotter.
He starts kissing me again halfway up the stairs, his mouth fusing to mine. The way he’s holding me—he barely has to exert himself, or at least that’s what it feels like. He’s got me, and I’m not going to fall.
Not this time.
I get lost in his kissing, the movement of his tongue, the way he’s stroking the inside of my mouth. I’m so involved in it I barely notice when he moves through the door to his bedroom. Then he’s laying me down on the quilt, easing himself over me, all while still kissing me.
He gets himself situated, and his mouth shifts, kissing my face, moving down my neck. His hands cup both my breasts, and then he starts easing my buttons open. I don’t have on a bra—I didn’t wear one here, after all—and it only takes a few buttons before he’s able to slide a hand under the shirt and cup one of my breasts. He plays the nipple with his thumb. I focus on the sensation, trying not to think about what I’m actually doing here. Because I’m selling myself, pure and simple. Yes, I did it once before, but this feels different. Maybe because this time I understand what I’m doing, much more deeply than when I succumbed to Sal’s demands.
Just stop thinking. Yes, that would be best for both of us. I push all my thoughts to the back of my head and just focus on what Nick’s doing to my body. His hands are warm, his fingers spreading to clasp my breast then moving down my stomach to unbutton the jeans I lifted from his closet.
“Where did you get these?” he asks as he slides the zipper down.
“Found them in your closet.” I lift my hips so he can slide the jeans down off my hips.
“Ah.” He frowns a little. “I wonder who they belonged to.”
There’s a quick pang in the middle of my chest. Somebody stayed the night here, left their clothes here, and Nick doesn’t even know who it was. That’s the kind of man he is.
I bite my lip and close my eyes for a second, getting myself back under control. By now he’s gotten my jeans off, sliding them down over my bare feet. I didn’t bother looking for shoes or socks. It seemed pointless.
Now I’m glad, because it’s that much easier for him to undress me, one less thing for me to think about. Plus he strokes his thumb down the arch of my bare foot, firmly so it doesn’t tickle, and another wave of need passes through me. His lips touch my ankle, kissing me there, then up the inside of my calf, my knee, up to my thigh. His breath is warm against my skin. Softly he strokes his tongue along the inside of my thigh, then higher.