The moment the words left her lips, he released that breath with a self-satisfied groan. “You won’t regret it,” he promised her, intending to keep that promise no matter what it took.
Not giving her any more time to reconsider, he headed for her room. Kicking the door open so he could carry her through it, he crossed to the bed, tossing her down upon it.
Lindsey landed amongst a pile of pillows, half reclining. She was now covered only by a skimpy pair of panties and a tiny, wispy light blue nightgown that was pulled down low on her breasts, not even covering one well-sucked nipple. The fabric floated up over her hips when she landed, so now it covered only her middle.
He didn’t follow her down, instead he stood by the bed, looking down at her. She reached toward one of her spaghetti straps—to pull it back up or push it all the way off? Didn’t matter. He hadn’t said she could.
“Ah-ahh,” he tsked. “I didn’t tell you to do that.”
Her hand froze; she eyed him with uncertainty. A beat. Then she lowered her hand onto the bed. Obeying.
Though he knew she was still unsure about this, her eyes glowed and her face was flushed with hunger. Her kiss-reddened lips trembled. Those beautiful nipples he’d suckled were hard and moist, and he’d lay money she wanted to lift her own hand to tweak them, just so she could have a moment’s satisfaction.
She didn’t move, however. She merely watched. Waited.
“Good girl.”
“I’m not calling you master,” she said with a tiny, playful smile, though her words sounded unsure—forced.
“You will if I tell you to,” he said, his voice low, silky, brooking no disobedience. He reached down and pushed her hair away from her face, brushing his thumb over her lips. “Won’t you, Lindsey?”
She blinked, her cheeks reddening, from anger? From excitement? Was a war going on behind her green eyes? He couldn’t be sure, not until her tongue flicked at his thumb, as if she simply had to taste him. And then she slowly nodded.
He had no intention of making her call him master; however, she’d just agreed that he could. Not forever, certainly not outside this bedroom. But here and now, oh yes, he could, and she knew it. Progress.
He began to unbutton his shirt, pulling it free of his pants. She watched closely, her breaths growing audible as she parted her lips and inhaled over them. When he undid his cuffs, pulled the shirt off and dropped it to the floor, she groaned, approval and hunger warring in her expression. Her hips thrust the tiniest bit, indicating she had no control over her body’s reaction. She wanted him desperately. Wanted to touch him and explore him, as he wanted to explore her.
But not yet.
“Take that off,” he ordered, nodding toward her nightie.
She didn’t refuse, didn’t tell him he forgot to say please. Lindsey was getting caught up in this. She was enjoying it.
Crossing her arms over her breasts, already mostly revealed to his hungry gaze, she pushed the straps down, pulling her arms free, and letting the gown float into a puddle on her lap. Her breasts were works of art, round and full, but not too heavy. He could still taste those rosy nipples on his tongue.
He watched as she pushed the gown down over her hips, then her thighs, until she could kick it out of the way. It fluttered to the floor near his feet, a wisp of a thing, simple but so very erotic when it was taken off.
He stared, rubbing his hand on his jaw, noting the scratch of his five o’clock shadow. For a long moment, he looked at her, picking out all the places on her body where she’d soon feel that scratch. Those breasts, that throat, that stomach and the hollow beneath it, right above her pelvis.
And oh, those legs and what lay between them.
“The panties, too.”
She licked her lips, apparently a little uncertain about stripping naked while he just stood there watching.
“Do it.”
Her eyes flared, but not in annoyance. She was excited as hell. It rolled off her in waves, electric and thrilling.
Lindsey might not have understood she wanted this, but he had.
Ever since he’d met her, he’d caught mentions and hints about how much she needed to maintain control. She’d made it clear she didn’t let down her guard, that she made rules and set boundaries. Her own best friend had tried to teach her how to accept real, genuine intimacy by giving her that book.
All of which just told him one thing: she needed to be fucked by somebody who wasn’t scared to say no to her.
Somebody who would not let her hide behind her quick humor or stop things from going beyond her predetermined acceptable point of intimacy. The decision had to be taken out of her hands so she would just experience this, rather than having to orchestrate every aspect of it.
“Did you not hear me?” he said, his tone holding an edge, his eyes on that pretty triangle of silk between her thighs.
Reaching for the elastic hem, she wriggled the underwear off. As she pushed the panties down her legs, she bent forward a little, her long red hair falling down onto her lap, covering the parts of her he most wanted to see. She plucked the lacy bit of nothing off and tossed it away to land with her nightgown, then looked up at him. That long hair still covered too much, including her breasts.
“Push your hair back.”
She lifted her hands, twined her fingers through the long, silky strands then moved them back over her shoulders, revealing those breasts again. Perfect.
“Lie down.”
Moving slowly, she did, reclining on the pile of cushions. Twisting her hair, she let it fall across the pillows in a vivid red splash against the pillowcase. One hand remained on the bed, relaxed and vulnerable, the other rested on her flat stomach.
His attention, however, was drawn a little bit lower.
He ground his teeth, clenching his jaw to hold himself together. That tuft of red curls at the apex of her thighs was small and angled, a little arrow pointing down toward the lips of her sex, concealed between her coyly closed legs.
“Let me see all of you.”
This time, she didn’t hesitate. She was captured by the excitement. Bending one knee, she slid her foot up, letting her legs fall open. He groaned at the sight of that erotically smooth flesh between them; the curls were only at the very top, just for decoration.
Such pretty decoration.
But damn, was it pretty without them.
He’d never been with a woman who waxed quite so thoroughly. The thought of burying his mouth in her, licking into those juicy crevices, finding her hard little clit and working it with his tongue until she screamed, made his cock ache.
“You are beautiful,” he said.
“Thank you,” she murmured, looking pleased by the compliment. It certainly couldn’t have been the first time she’d heard it—the woman was drop-dead gorgeous. Then again, considering he suspected she never let any guy really glimpse the real her, maybe she didn’t hear it all that often, beyond the superficial pickup lines.
“Beautiful,” he repeated, because it needed to be said twice.
He reached for his belt, unfastened it and pulled it out quickly. The leather cracked as it left the loops of his pants. Lindsey stiffened, her hands fisting, and he knew what thought had flashed across that brilliant mind.
He hated that her thoughts had instinctively gone to such a place. Had someone abused her? Was that why she found it so impossible to give herself over and trust someone completely?
“I’d never hurt you,” he assured her, sure she’d already accepted that, deep down, but might need to hear it anyway.
She nodded, swallowing visibly. He noted the reaction, more sure of his suspicion. Somewhere along the way, someone had hurt her, maybe not physically, but emotionally she’d been conditioned to expect the worst.
The very idea infuriated him, but he definitely didn’t want her to sense anger in him and tense up. So he forced it away and gave her a sexy, self-assured smile as he reached for the waistband of his pants.
