Pixie closed the lid of her carry-on.
“I got that,” he said as he stood and walked to the bed. With one hand, he grabbed it and lowered it to the floor. He swept Pixie into his arms and placed her down on his bed. He joined her and laid down on his side facing her. With a gentle tug, he drew her into his arms, and savoured the way she rolled against him, her breasts pressed against his chest. This was where they should have slept the previous evening. Here in his room, making memories to keep him company when she was gone.
“Thank you for a great weekend,” she breathed. “It’s been wonderful.”
“Any time, Snowflake.” His hands were all over her. One stroked her back, the other ran up and down her ribs. She caught him off guard when she moved to lie on top of him, and kissed all manner of thoughts from his head. He couldn’t speak, barely wanted to breathe in case he scared her off. He wanted her. Badly. In any of the ways he’d envisioned taking her.
With a swift flip, he lay over her and heard her gasp. “Remember the rules, Pix. I swear it’ll be okay. Let’s play a little.”
*
Let’s play a little.
The words bounced around in her head as she processed the fact she was now lying underneath a man who could take anything he wanted from her.
Instead he was looking down at her with a mixture of raw power and hope.
Pixie took his hand and guided it under her blouse. Her stepfather’s words played on repeat. They’re hardly worth looking at, Sarah. I should find a girl with a real woman’s figure. She closed her eyes and prayed her slender frame was enough for Dred.
“Two questions, Snowflake,” Dred said gruffly. “Do you remember rule three?”
She wasn’t fragile. She could handle this. Pixie nodded.
“Rule number two?” He knelt astraddle over her thighs and licked his lips as he studied her.
Oh God. “Stripping and licking . . .”
Dred laughed softly. “Yeah, there’s that. But it’s you saying stop, right?” His fingers slid under the first button, opening it wide.
“I will. I promise.”
He leaned forward and kissed her again, sucking her tongue into his mouth. More buttons were opened, but she was too under Dred’s spell to care. When he finally lifted away from her, he pushed the blouse open wide. “Fuck, it’s even better than imagined.”
“You imagined this?” she whispered.
“Would I freak you out if I told you I jerked off while thinking about you like this?” He slid both hands up her rib cage and pushed them under the band of her bra. He gripped her breasts firmly, then lowered his mouth to suck on her nipple through the lace of her underwear. Pixie arched off the bed as sensation flooded through her.
Dred’s hands snuck around her back and popped the clasp open. He surprised her by not removing her clothes fully, just sliding the cups out of the way.
Gently, his mouth returned to her nipples. The sensation of his tongue swirling her breasts were enough to drown the words echoing from the past. Pixie relaxed into the moment. She could trust the man who held her firmly in his hands. Literally.
Pixie removed the elastic he’d used to tie his hair back and released all the dark waves. She gathered it in her hands and pulled gently. Dred looked up at her as his tongue licked her nipple like a lollipop.
“Like that is it?” he grinned as she tugged his hair again.
“Maybe.”
Dred kissed her chest, her lips, her neck. His hands roved her body, sometimes reverently, sometimes roughly. She loved it all. And inspired by the uninhibited way he explored her, she reached for the hem of his T-shirt, and inched it up over his back. Dred knelt up and grabbed it, pulling it off over his head in one swift movement. His hands came back to her waist.
Holy baby Jesus. He was so very perfect. Every part of him rippled with muscles. His chest was broad, his abs. . . . Seriously. The ink, the hair, the talent. Yes, she’d seen him at the hotel, but up this close and personal her body suddenly felt severely inadequate. Lacking in every possible way compared to what he was offering her.
She pulled the edges of her blouse closed, and Dred responded quickly. He lifted off her and flopped down on the bed next to her. She could see his erection straining against his jeans. With an arm over his eyes, his breathed deeply.
“Can I ask you a question, Snowflake?” His voice was low, but not angry. And not angry was good. He reached for her hand.
“Sure,” she said and fastened two of the buttons on her blouse.
“What scared you enough to stop? What did I do?”
What did he do? It so wasn’t about him. It was her. Not being enough. “You got naked,” she replied.
Dred rolled onto his side and cupped her face with one hand. “You kind of got that started. I followed the lead. I don’t care that we stopped, but I am thinking if we understand why, next time we can . . . you know . . . do something differently.”
“Can you please stop being so fucking perfect for a second?”
Dred laughed. “I’m clearly not perfect, Pix.”