"You just took me by surprise," I whisper, then swallow. Christian is really quite scary sometimes.
He brushes his lips against mine. "I will do anything to keep you safe. Keep my family safe. Keep this little one safe," he murmurs and splays his hand out over my belly in a gentle caress.
Oh . . . I stop breathing. Christian gazes down at me, his eyes darkening. His lips part as he inhales and, in a deliberate move, the tips of his fingers brush against my sex.
Holy shit. Desire detonates like an incendiary device igniting my bloodstream. I grasp his head, my fingers weaving into his hair, and tug hard so my lips find his. He gasps, surprised by my assault, giving my tongue free passage into his mouth. He groans and kisses me back, his lips and tongue hungry for mine, and for a moment we consume each other, lost in tongues and lips and breaths and sweet, sweet sensation as we rediscover each other.
Oh, I want this man. It's been too long. I want him here, now, in the open air, in our meadow.
"Ana," he breathes, entranced, and his hand skims over my backside to the hem of my skirt. I scramble to unbutton his shirt, all fingers and thumbs.
"Whoa, Ana—stop." He pulls back, his jaw clenched, and grabs my hands.
"No." My teeth clamp gently around his lower lip and I tug. "No," I murmur again, gazing at him. I release him. "I want you."
He inhales sharply. He's torn, his indecision writ large in luminous gray eyes.
"Please, I need you." Every pore of my being is begging. This is what we do.
He groans in defeat as his mouth finds mine, molding my lips to his. One hand cradles my head while the other skims down my body to my waist, and he eases me onto my back and stretches out beside me, never breaking contact with my mouth.
He pulls back, hovering over me and gazing down. "You are so beautiful, Mrs. Grey."
I caress his lovely face. "So are you, Mr. Grey. Inside and out."
He frowns, and my fingers trace the furrow in his brow.
"Don't frown. You are to me, even when you're angry," I whisper.
He groans once more, and his mouth captures mine, pushing me into the soft grass beneath the blanket.
"I've missed you," he whispers, and his teeth graze my jaw. My heart soars.
"I've missed you, too. Oh, Christian." I fist one hand in his hair and clutch his shoulder with the other.
His lips move to my throat, leaving tender kisses in their wake, and his fingers follow, deftly undoing each button of my blouse. Tugging my blouse apart, he kisses the soft swell of my breasts. He murmurs appreciatively, low in his throat, and the sound echoes through my body to my deep dark places.
"Your body's changing," he whispers. His thumb teases my nipple until it's erect and straining against my bra. "I like," he adds. I watch his tongue taste and trace the line between my bra and my breast, tantalizing and teasing me. Taking my bra cup delicately between his teeth, he pulls it down, freeing my breast and nuzzling my nipple with his nose in the process. It puckers at his touch and from the chill of the gentle fall breeze. His lips close around me, and he sucks long and hard.
"Ah!" I groan, inhaling sharply then wincing as pain radiates outward from my bruised ribs.
"Ana!" Christian exclaims and glares down at me, concern etched on his face. "This is what I'm talking about," he admonishes. "Your lack of self-preser-vation. I don't want to hurt you."
"No . . . don't stop," I whimper. He stares at me, warring with himself.
"Please."
"Here." Abruptly he moves, and I'm sitting astride him, my short skirt now bunched up around my hips. His hands glide over the top of my thigh-highs.
"There. That's better, and I can enjoy the view." He reaches up and hooks his long index finger into my other bra cup, freeing that breast, too. He grasps both of my breasts, and I throw my head back, pushing them into his welcome, expert hands. He teases me, tugging and rolling my nipples until I cry out, then sits up so we're nose to nose, his greedy gray eyes on mine. He kisses me, his fingers still teasing me. I scramble for his shirt, undoing the first two buttons, and it's like sensory overload—I want to be kissing him everywhere, undressing him, making love with him all at once.
"Hey—" He gently grasps my head and pulls back, eyes dark and full of sensual promise. "There's no rush. Take it slow. I want to savor you."
"Christian, it's been so long." I'm panting.
"Slow," he whispers, and it's a command. He kisses the right corner of my mouth. "Slow." He kisses the left corner. "Slow, baby." He tugs my bottom lip with his teeth. "Let's take this slow." He unfurls his fingers in my hair, keeping me in place as his tongue invades my mouth, seeking, tasting, calming . . . inflam-ing. Oh, my man can kiss.
I caress his face, my fingers moving tentatively down to his chin then to his throat, and I start again on the buttons of his shirt, taking my time, as he continues to kiss me. Slowly I pull his shirt apart, my fingers trailing over his clavicles, feeling their way across his warm, silky skin. I push him gently back until he's lying beneath me. Sitting up, I gaze down at him, aware that I'm squirming against his growing erection. Hmm. I trace my fingers across his lips to his jaw then down his neck, over his Adam's apple to that little dip at the base of his throat. My beautiful man. I lean down, and my kisses follow the tips of my fingers. My teeth graze his jaw and kiss his throat. He closes his eyes.
"Ah." He groans and tilts his head back, giving me easier access to the base of his throat, his mouth slack and open in silent veneration. Christian lost and aroused is just so exhilarating . . . and so arousing to me.
My tongue trails down his sternum, twirling through his chest hair. Hmm. He tastes so good. He smells so good. Intoxicating. I kiss first one, then two of his small round scars, and he grasps my hips, so my fingers halt on his chest as I gaze down at him. His breathing is harsh.
"You want this? Here?" he breathes, his eyes hooded with a heady combination of love and lust.
"Yes," I murmur, and my lips and tongue graze across his chest to his nipple.
I pull and roll it gently with my teeth.
"Oh, Ana," he whispers and circling my waist he lifts me, tugging at his button and fly so he springs free. He sits me down again, and I push against him, delighting in the feel of him hot and hard beneath me. He runs his hands up my thighs, pausing where my thigh-highs stop and my flesh begins, his hands running small teasing circles at the top of my thighs so that the tips of his thumbs touch me . . . touch me where I want to be touched. I gasp.
"I hope you're not attached to your underwear," he murmurs, his eyes wild and bright. His fingers trace the elastic along my belly then slide inside, teasing me, before grabbing my panties tightly and pushing his thumbs through the delicate material. My panties disintegrate. His hands splay out on my thighs, and his thumbs brush against my sex once more. He flexes his hips so his erection rubs against me.
"I can feel how wet you are." His voice is tinged with carnal appreciation, and he suddenly sits up, his arm around my waist again, so we're nose to nose. He rubs his nose against mine.
"We're going to take this slow, Mrs. Grey. I want to feel all of you." He lifts me, and with exquisite, frustrating, slow ease, lowers me onto him. I feel each blessed inch of him fill me.
"Ah—" I moan incoherently as I reach out to clasp his arms. I try to lift myself off him for some welcome friction, but he holds me in place.
"All of me," he whispers and tilts his pelvis, pushing himself into me all the way. I throw my head back and let out a strangled cry of pure pleasure.
"Let me hear you," he murmurs. "No—don't move, just feel."
I open my eyes, my mouth frozen in a silent Ah! And he's gazing at me, hooded, licentious gray eyes into dazed blue. He shifts, rolling his hips, but holds me in place.
I groan. His lips are at my throat, kissing me.
"This is my favorite place. Buried in you," he murmurs against my skin.
"Please, move," I plead.