Never taking his gaze from her, he complied. “Now I’m further away from you.”
“Not for long.”
Rather than lean his head back against the pillows, he propped himself up on his elbows again to watch her.
At the moment she was standing still, staring at the dark-haired, dark-eyed man reclining nude atop her bed sheets. The fire glinted orange and gold across his bare chest and long limbs. His shaft jutted toward his stomach. The muscles of his bent arms curved hard and strong. His wide lips looked firm, kissable. A hint of stubble shaded the line of his jaw.
The best part, the unbelievable, inconceivable, astonishing part, wasn’t merely his presence, but that she could have him without worrying about her cursed visions. She could touch him anywhere she wished, kiss him anywhere she wished, meld her flesh with his anyway she wished. He was a miracle, a gift, an answer to a secret prayer.
And tonight he was hers.
What should she do first? The possibilities seemed endless. The night, however, was not. Evangeline rounded the bed, climbed atop the mattress, lay on her side next to him.
“How long will you stay?”
Another pensive half smile flickered as he muttered, “I feel like I should be asking you that.”
She brushed the soft dark hair from his brow. “I mean tonight.”
“I know.” He regarded her in silence for a moment. Then: “I told you I was yours to command, and I meant it. I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.”
“Then I shall endeavor to stay awake.”
“I can help with that.” This time his smile reached his eyes.
If it were possible to freeze an image of him in her mind forever, then this was precisely how Evangeline wanted to remember him. His eyes crinkling, his mouth curved in a rakish grin, his body so close every inch of her flesh could feel his heat.
“May I touch you?” she asked.
“Anywhere.”
“Thank you.”
His grin widened. “I’m fairly certain the pleasure will be mine.”
No, the pleasure would be hers. She reached up with one hand, cupped the side of his face, brushed the pad of her thumb against his cheek. She leaned over, pressed her lips hard against his. A brief kiss. She would take her time after she had a chance to explore him.
She ran her hand down his corded neck and along the width of his shoulders. His shoulders were so wide, his skin so warm, his scent so intoxicatingly masculine. She laid her head on his chest. Small wiry hairs rubbed against her cheek. His heartbeat thudded against her ear. She slid her palm from his shoulder to his hand and laced his fingers with hers.
“Gavin?”
He kissed the top of her head. “Yes?”
No. She couldn’t say it. To give voice to her feelings would only make leaving even harder. And what if he didn’t feel the same way? She couldn’t bear to know. Not now. Not yet.
She unlaced their fingers and lifted herself on one elbow. She stroked his face, his shoulders, his arms, his chest, his stomach, reveling in the different textures of his body beneath her palm. Parts of him were smooth. Parts of him were scratchy with tiny hairs. All of him was hard, strong, scalding to the touch. She scooted further down the bed and ran her hand along his thigh, his foot, his toes, then back up the other side until her fingertips brushed against the root of his shaft. He flinched.
“Does it hurt?”
He smiled. “Only in a good way.”
She returned his smile, pleased to touch him without the encumbrance of clothing. She curled her fingers around the heat of his flesh, caressed, squeezed, stroked. He grew bigger, hotter. She glanced up at his face. His gaze was locked on the movements of her hand around his cock, his breath shallow, his muscles tense.
“If I keep touching you like this, would I be able to give you the same pleasure you gave me in your studio?”
His eyes flicked to hers. “Undoubtedly.”
The naked desire in his unguarded expression filled Evangeline with a strange, glorious sense of power.
