“I would like to kiss you.” If he didn’t want her to, he could say no and they could find something else to do. She wasn’t going to be embarrassed because some guy didn’t want her. Some stunningly gorgeous guy. Some funny, sexy guy. After all, she wouldn’t see him after this. She’d never seen him before. He’d told her he was moving in, but she went into work early and came home late. He was a bodyguard, so he likely worked odd hours and traveled a lot.
He was safe. She could open that door, enjoy herself, and then close it again. Owen Shaw could be her first good memory in a long time, the start of many because it was time to get serious about finding some joy and balance in her life.
But only if he wanted some joy, too.
He moved, placing his back against the elevator wall, the sweetest smile lighting up his face. “You have no idea how much I want you to kiss me. I’m right here, love. Do your worst.”
He was letting her make the first move. And probably the second. And the third. He was obviously a careful man. It would be easier if he took over, but he was right. This needed to be her choice, and she had to make the move.
She’d been the girl who’d told her parents at the age of five that kindergarten was boring and she wanted to move through the grades until she found something challenging. When they’d told her they wanted her to slow down and enjoy her childhood, she’d gone on strike until the teachers at her school begged her parents to let them move her up.
She was the girl who’d put it all on hold to take care of her mother, too.
Now she was the woman who took what she wanted, and she wanted Owen Shaw.
“It’s been a long time since I did this.” But her body was already heating up. Her body remembered. Her marriage might have sucked, but the sex had been fairly good. It had been the reason she’d married him. She’d gotten used to regular, good sex.
She’d get used to it again, just on her terms this time.
“Somehow, I think you’ll remember,” he said. “You play all you like. Stop when you want to.”
She’d been right about him. He was a careful man. “And if I don’t want to stop?”
“Then you should be happy I’m a man who believes in being prepared,” he said, his voice huskier since she’d gotten closer. “The minute you know what you want, you let me know and I’ll make it happen. I promise you won’t be sorry and you won’t be thinking about anything but how good I can make you feel.”
He was making her feel alive, and it had been so long since she’d felt like anything but a brain.
Though she knew her brain was a part of this. Her limbic system had been triggered, had been slowly churning for a while now.
She touched him, finally getting her hands on him, and she could feel her respiration rate tick up. The decision made, she gave up on feeling self-conscious. Maybe it wouldn’t be as good as she thought it could be. Maybe she was only nervous and killing time in a situation that made her want to pull her own hair out. It didn’t matter. He was an indulgence and she’d earned it.
She went up on her toes and brushed her lips against his. Soft and warm and somehow still masculine. His scent washed over her, piney and clean. She could see him in the shower, soaping up his muscular body and oh, yes, it was very muscular. Her hands found his waist and ran up his torso. He was solid and fit.
He stayed still, seemingly willing to let her explore. He kissed her gently, as though he was afraid to scare her off. He obviously did not understand how much it would take to scare her off. Her body, so long denied, was pretty damn determined to have its way at this point.
His hands moved to her waist and he leaned over, deepening the kiss. This was what she’d needed for weeks.
She let her tongue play at his bottom lip and a thrill went through her as she felt his big body shudder, his hips moving against her as if he couldn’t help himself.
He was already hard. He seemed to realize what he was doing and while he didn’t stop kissing her, he tried to move his hips back.
Nope. She didn’t want that at all. She pressed herself against him, trying to let him know she loved the feel of that hard cock against her belly. She leaned into him and his mouth opened, tongue touching hers.
“Tell me I can take over,” he whispered between kisses. “Let me off the leash, love. It’s killing me not to touch you the way I want to.”
How did he want to touch her? Would he be gentle, or would he let his harder side out? She had no doubt this man had a hardass side, and she was curious about it. “Show me how you want to touch me.”
A long sigh went through him and his hands came up to her shoulders, drifting over the cardigan that suddenly seemed way too confining. She didn’t need it, right? His hands moved up to her neck while he kissed her and then he tangled his fingers in her hair and the kiss seemed to go wild.
His tongue invaded, stroking against hers. He held her still while he plundered her mouth. A wave of insane lust threatened to shake her to the core. Her body seemed to melt against his. All that mattered was his next kiss, the next touch. Her fingers found his shirt, pulling it free from his jeans.
“God, yes, Becca,” he groaned against her mouth. “Touch me.”
She ran her hands under his shirt, her palms finding his smooth, warm skin, and yes, all those muscles.
He reached down and dragged the shirt over his head, tossing it away before he kissed her again. “I know I shouldn’t do this, but I can’t help myself. This is going to come back to bite me in the arse, but I can’t make myself care. Do you feel what you do to me? Do you know how long it’s been since I felt like this?”
She wasn’t sure she’d ever felt this out of control before, and it was glorious. She let go of any thought beyond him. She’d kicked off her shoes long before, but now it was time to dump more of her clothes.
She wanted to be skin to skin with him. It couldn’t happen here, but she needed to at least feel his hands on her, and she couldn’t do that with the cardigan between them. At least the thin camisole she wore underneath would offer him access.
The idea of his hands on her breasts, cupping her and running his fingertips over her nipples, lit up her libido.
She slipped the cardigan off her shoulders and let it slide to the floor.
His hands immediately smoothed down her arms, as though he couldn’t wait to touch her. A low, sexy growl came from the back of his throat and he turned her around in one powerful move, shifting her so her back was against his chest, his mouth against her ear.
“Do you have any idea what I want to do to you, girl? I want to eat you up. I’m the big bad wolf and you’re going to let me in, aren’t ya?”
That accent pierced through her. Fuck yeah, she was going to let him in. “Yes, Owen.”
One big hand cupped her breast over her shirt and she leaned back against him. The sex had been good with her husband, but she’d been the aggressor. This was new. He was taking over, and it did something for her. She’d always thought she wanted to be in charge, but now she was reconsidering her position.
He’d told her she could stop him at any time, and she believed him. What if she could cede power and control for a single encounter, enjoy herself without having to think and strategize?
His left hand shifted from her breasts to her skirt, dragging it up. “I want my hands on you, my mouth on you. I want to make a meal of you, love. Do you understand what I mean? I want to bloody well lay you out right here and shove my tongue up your pussy. I bet you taste like honey.”
Every word shot through her. “I want to taste you, too.”
She wanted her mouth on his cock. She wanted to suck him until he was dry. She’d missed this, missed sex and intimacy. Why had she waited so damn long?
Maybe she’d waited for him.
She let the thought float away because there were more pressing matters. His hand was dangerously close to her underwear. Her breath held as he teased his way in.