Emily’s agreement is all about one thing. Trust. Something I don’t give or take lightly. Nor am I a stranger to the need to escape, and I’m not sure Emily is either. I just don’t think she’s as good at it as I am. And normally for me, that escape is fucking hard and fast, and getting it out of my system. But nothing about this night, or Emily, has hit the spots I know as familiar. They are simply the spots I need.
Still holding her hands on the railing, I spread my arms until they align with the railing, forcing her grip farther, my body draped over her, intentionally allowing the heavy starch of my shirt to tease her nipples. I linger there, building the anticipation intended to force her to think of this, and me, and nothing else. Seconds tick by, my blood pumping, my body cradling hers, the thick pulse of my erection aligned with her hips, the sweet scent of her drowning my senses in all the right ways. When I am certain she has waited long enough, I nip her shoulder. She yelps, and I lick the offended area, my lips curving against her skin at the moan that follows. She leans her head forward, the only part of her I don’t have pinned, resting it on my shoulder. A breeze lifts around us, slightly chilled.
She shivers and I press my cheek to hers. “Don’t worry. I plan to heat every chilled spot on your body.” I seal that promise by dragging my lips over her neck, to her jaw, then settling a breath from her mouth, promising a kiss I don’t deliver. I want to taste her, but I don’t. I linger there, teasing her and me, waiting for the reach of her lips and I pull back? my hands flexing over hers.
“Don’t let go,” I warn, dragging my palms up her arms to settle on her shoulders, and when I look at her I know she doesn’t mean for me to see the fear in her eyes or the sweetness that she rejects because she thinks it makes her weak. “Close your eyes,” I order, forcing her to let go of her control and give to me.
“What?” she asks, a hint of panic in her voice and expression that tells me I’ve made her feel exposed and vulnerable, an extreme reaction considering all she has to do is open her eyes if she so pleases. It only drives home how on edge she is, and how much she needs a safe place to let go of her control.
“You want me to fuck you?”
“What? Shane—”
“Do you want me to fuck you?”
“Yes.”
“Then close your eyes, Emily,” I repeat, pushing the words with a harder command this time.
She inhales sharply and lowers her lashes. “Are you happy now?” she challenges.
My lips quirk with her feisty remark, further convincing me that she’s a fighter that won’t let fear win. “Not yet,” I assure her. “But we both will be soon.”
“How soon?” she asks, more of that breathless sexiness in her voice. I feel it in my groin.
“When we’re both ready.”
“I’m ready.”
Now I’m smiling, and once again, I wonder how that is even possible this night. I lightly stroke my mouth over hers, a tease that is barely there. “You’re ready,” I murmur, letting my breath fan her lips, “when I say you’re ready.”
I step away from her and her eyes pop open, but her hands remain on the railing. “What if I just grab you and kiss you and—”
“You know the answer.”
“You’ll stop what you aren’t even doing yet.”
“And I won’t either, if you don’t shut your eyes again.”
The look she fixes me with is fierce, as are her words. “I hate you right now,” she declares, and she shuts her eyes.
“Angry sex,” I approve. “Sounds good to me.” I loosen my tie and walk to a table, folding it and setting it on top, reaching for the top button on my shirt, but a master at forcing my own control, I decide not to undress.
Instead, I grab a chair and carry it with me, setting it in front of her. Close. Really damn close the way I want her body to mine, but I don’t touch her. I want her to feel me looking at her, wanting her, planning every place I intend to lick and touch. Her breasts, with her sexy, rose-colored nipples puckered into tight balls. Her flat trembling belly. Her naked sex that will know my tongue sooner than later and then finally, her lovely, heart-shaped face, where her teeth worry her bottom lip. And what I see in her is exactly what I’m after. Nervous excitement. Arousal.
“Shane,” she whispers, telling me I’ve taken her to the edge, where I want her.
“Open your eyes,” I order, and the moment she blinks and finds me sitting in front of here, I cup her backside and lift her into my lap, straddling me, the angle forcing her weight onto the railing.