“Charlee.” A pant. Another stroke.
Could she get him worked up enough to take her roughly? Would rough be enough to get her off? She raised her hand and drew her middle finger between her lips, out, in, out, in long sucking strokes, humming.
His free hand splayed on his thigh as his fist resumed its previous rhythm. “Fuck, Charlee.” A shudder rippled over his torso. “Stop that. You’re not helping.”
His voice, thick with arousal, thrilled her, powered her to continue. She’d never played with a man this way, had no clue what she was doing. Each slurp of her finger and smack of her lips was answered with a strained rattle low in his throat. He leaned toward her, but his feet remained cemented to the floor.
Not enough seduction? Fine. She spread her legs, hooked her heels on the bed frame, and lowered her finger from her mouth to her clit. She looked at him, knowing her eyes conveyed an earnest request.
Dark hair clung to his forehead in a bed-ruffled mess of sexiness. He brushed it away and shoved off the wall. Given the tense lines of his muscles, she expected him to rush the distance and tackle her.
His strong, lithe legs stepped out of his briefs and moved in a deliberate, predatory stalk toward the bed. The sinews in his thighs stretched through his strides and his hand fell away from his arousal to ball at his side, his eyes intent and unblinking.
Bared in her spread position, toes curled around the bed frame and one arm wobbling to support her backward lean, she imagined him carrying a paddle, swinging the danger in waves through the room. Her desire mounted.
The way he prowled toward her with clipped breath and that made-for-sex physique, he had dangerous perfected. His dominant side vibrated at the end of some kind of noble leash. She knew it was there. Hell, she’d seen the proof of it tied to a piano. But instead of tying her down while she slept, he’d snuck across the room to jerk off at a safe distance, the polite bastard.
She circled her finger around the centermost point of her ache. “You told me on the plane that part of my problem was thinking instead of feeling. Are you taking your own advice?”
He stopped at the mattress and bowed over her, hips between her thighs, chest pumping against hers, arms braced on either side. His eyes were a rich brown in the darkened room. A thin band of moonlight glanced off his jaw, highlighting the masculine square of his chin. “Tell me exactly what you want.”
The beat of her heart stumbled. “I want you to take without asking.” Never would she have uttered those words to anyone else. Why him? How had he coaxed all her reckless desires to the surface so fiercely? By the softened look on his face, he understood the degree of trust and vulnerability she offered.
Their gazes clung in that stalled moment, their bodies straining toward the other, and finally, finally, he reached between her legs, nudged her hand away, and cupped her with the possessive strength she longed for.
She arched her back and sought his mouth, urgent and greedy. He drew in her tongue and pushed it back with his own. Their deep, gasping kisses energized the air and coated her body in goose bumps.
He slid his lips over her cheek to her ear and placed a gentle peck on her bandage. “Lay back. Hands above your head.”
Her breath caught and her entire body ignited with tingles. That command in his deep, husky timbre…Holy hell, what a seductive combination. She raised her arms and collapsed on the mattress.
“Good girl.” One of the fingers between her legs pressed in, rotated, and slipped out with a rush of moisture.
Her impatience squeaked in her throat and she blinked in the glare of his dilated eyes.
He entered her again, fuller this time. Two fingers, maybe three. She squirmed as he stretched and stroked her walls, rippling shivers through her body.
“Stop wiggling.” His eyes glimmered and his tongue slid lazily over her parted lips. He radiated heat everywhere he touched her. His breath, so close, washed over her face in a minty haze. Another swipe of his tongue and he plunged past her lips in the same curling movement as his fingers inside her.
When she bucked again, he yanked his fingers out and slapped her thigh. She sucked in a breath, his breath, breathing him in, because his mouth was there, trapping hers.
She calmed the roll of her hips and followed the lead of his nips and licks. No one had kissed her since Roy, and no one had ever kissed her in the acquiring, ravenous manner in which he controlled her mouth. It was as though he wanted to bring her inside him and consume her. It was unfamiliar and so very intimate to be enveloped and adored by man who was both intense and caring.