However, he was not glad she’d thrown herself in a chair and not on him.
He took her in. Her tailored, black short shorts. The dark gray knit top that had one arm bare and the other arm partially covered by a fall of material. She’d taken off the pewter gladiator sandals she’d changed into when she’d changed out of her t-shirt dress when they went shopping, so her legs and feet were bare.
Her hair was a sexy mess, and except for a sweep of blush, a thick line of black eyeliner and a couple of coats of mascara, she had on no other adornment, including jewelry.
“I’m done,” she announced.
Finally it was time to fuck.
“And just to say,” she went on, “that was no easy task. Your closet is heaving. You have more clothes than a girl.”
He dropped his book to his chest and spoke truth. “My closet is twice the size of your entire apartment. It might be heaving now with the addition of the evidence of your addiction to leather and designer apparel that emerged as if by magic from that microscopic closet in your hovel. I’m not surprised you opened the door and it rolled out at your feet. What I’m surprised about is that when you opened the door it didn’t explode in your face.”
She grinned at him.
Definitely time to fuck.
“But my closet was not full when you began,” he concluded.
“I counted,” she returned. “And you have fifty-two suits.”
He raised his brows. “Is this a crime?”
“Who needs fifty-two suits?” she teased.
“Apparently me,” he drawled.
She rolled her eyes.
He looked at her long legs and took a moment to gather his control before he had her turned in that chair with her shorts around her ankles and his cock planted inside her.
When his attention moved back to her face, he noted she’d grown distracted, and she’d done this because her eyes were moving the length of his body.
It seemed they shared a common frame of mind.
Excellent.
“Simone,” he called.
“Mm?” she hummed.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I like that shirt,” she mumbled.
He didn’t look down at his graphite-colored linen shirt.
He studied her, attempting not to smile at the same time attempting to control his cock, which was getting hard.
“And you look really good in jeans,” she continued mumbling.
Stellan felt his lips twitch.
“Simone,” he called again.
“Mm?” she repeated her hum.
He reached out and put his book on the coffee table before ordering, “Come here, darling.”
Like she was on autopilot, she rose from the chair, moved to him, and when she got close, he lifted up only enough to wrap his fingers around her hand. It took no effort at all to tug her down to him so that she was stretched out on top of him whereupon he rolled, trapping her against the back of the couch.
Yes.
This was much better.
Her vague eyes hit his.
“Would you like something to eat?” he asked quietly.
“I don’t think so,” she replied.
“Would you like me to make you a cocktail?” he kept at the game.
Her gaze dropped to his mouth.
“Maybe later,” she murmured.
Definitely later.
“Simone,” he said.
Her eyes drifted up to his.
Stellan dipped in close and whispered, “We’re going to fuck now, sweetheart.”
Her hand resting on his chest clenched into his shirt, her body coasted toward his, her gaze again dropped to his mouth, and Stellan kissed her.
Although he’d planned to do this last night, starting the proceedings on his couch in his bedroom, that didn’t happen.
So he carried out his plan there.
Thus he communicated with his firm, wet kiss that he was not going to mess about, but he also wasn’t going in hard and fast.
This was not going to be a quick fuck to take the edge off.
This was going to be their first fuck.
Something to remember.
He realized his mistake while crafting this strategy almost immediately.
He had not taken into account how he would react to her response.
Especially when it was like it had been during their first kiss the day before—sweet, almost innocent, like he was the first man who’d ever had her mouth.
This included Simone melting into him, tipping her head deep, her lips soft, her mouth an open invitation, her taste exemplary, her perfume weaving a spell.
Therefore it was time to take this to his bedroom, or she’d be bare ass to mahogany leather, he’d be out of control, and this would be a quick fuck to take the edge off.
He broke the kiss, drew away from her, but did it pulling her gently out of the couch with him.
On their feet, he held her in his arms and kissed her there. Light, soft, quick touches and tastes as she held onto his shirt in fists to hold her steady in order to fully absorb them through her lips.
Then he disengaged, moved them around the couch, through the room, up the stairs and down the hall to his room.
He stopped her at his side of his bed, turned her back to it, her front to him, and looked down at her gentled face as she peered up at him with the slow burn he’d created openly exposed in her eyes.
Beautiful.
He took her face in his hands, gliding his fingers across the skin, over her ears, in her hair, his gaze roaming, his mouth murmuring, “You probably have no earthly idea how pretty you are.”
“I’m hot as fuck,” she tried to quip, but her words were breathy.
He gave her a small smile. “You are, my darling, but you’re also uncommonly pretty.” He rubbed a thumb across her lips, whispering, “I could look at you for hours.”
Simone was finished with talking, definitely not in the mood to stand there and let him look at her, and she communicated that by arching into him.
He used his hands at her face to pull her up and again captured her mouth.
It took effort, and control, to build the heat of his kisses slowly, especially when she started making little mews that formed in the back of her throat but filled his mouth.
And most especially when she rubbed her breasts against his chest through the fabric of their shirts.
But when her patience snapped and her hands became urgent, lifting up the untucked tails of his shirt and hitting the skin at the sides of his waist, immediately trailing everywhere she could reach, her touch slipped the knot he had tied on his control, and Stellan returned it.
Under her shirt, he wrapped his fingers around her sides. The pads going up her back, his thumbs dug in at the front.
Her skin was smooth, soft, warm, gorgeous.
Gliding up, his attention snagged as his thumb snagged a ridge of skin that shouldn’t be there.
Although he’d seen them the night before when he’d helped her undress, it surprised him enough to break contact with her lips.
But he wouldn’t have had to.
Her body abruptly cranked to the side, and if he didn’t tighten his hold on her to keep her where she was, he’d have lost her.
Their eyes met, and her breathing was no longer ragged simply due to his kisses.
“I—” she started, panic seeping into her gaze.
“I know about it,” he whispered, feeling her tense as he dragged the pad of his thumb back over one of two scars he knew she’d received when she’d sustained gunshot wounds.
“It’s—”
“Not for now,” he finished for her.
“Stellan—”
He pressed in at the scar but took his other hand from her skin to hold her at the side of her head.
He put his lips to hers and said, “I know what brought you back to Phoenix, darling. And we’ll talk about the whys later. For now all you need to know is that I don’t give a fuck about it. It doesn’t bother me. It’s part of you. It comes with you. It’s a piece of your history. And in case you’ve been missing my message, honey, I want all of you. Now settle down so that I can get inside you.”
She stared into his eyes, her breath still coming fast with excite ment as well as panic, and before he could guess her intention, she pulled back, tore off her shirt, tossed it aside and came at him with hands up.
Fingers fisting in his hair, she dragged his mouth down to hers.
She thrust her tongue between his lips.
He thrust it out, taking hers briefly, then tore his mouth free.