And this time, he would enjoy her. This time, it wouldn’t be fast and hard.
This time, he would take his time.
He lowered the zipper on the dress slowly, watching as it fell away from her body, as it pooled on the floor at her feet.
She was wearing black heels, a black pair of lace panties and a see-through bra. Beautiful.
The way that her red hair contrasted with the dark lace, her pale skin, sent his libido into overdrive.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, remembering what she had said about giving her compliments. How many things had he said to her that were sharp? Like a cruel sword digging into her skin. He had caused so much pain.
He wanted to erase it now.
“Incredible,” he said.
He closed the distance between them, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck, her shoulder. “Perfect.”
She shivered in his arms, and he unhooked her bra, casting it onto the ground, exposing her glorious flesh, and reveling in the sight.
He kissed her collarbone, down to the plump curve of her breasts, down to her tight, pink nipple, which he drew into his mouth, sucking hard.
“Gorgeous,” he said again.
He left praise all over her skin with each kiss, each scrape of his teeth over her delicate skin.
He was not a man who had relationships. He had been preoccupied all of his life with his feelings for her. Such a huge part of himself had always been consumed by the toxicity of what existed between himself and Heather. He had lovers. But there had never been intensity. He had never spent the night in bed with a woman.
He had never lost himself entirely in a kiss, in an orgasm, in a moment.
With her, he was entirely enraptured.
Entirely lost.
“Take me to bed,” she whispered against his mouth, and so he picked her up, and carried her across the living area, back toward that blue canopy bed that had so taken her when they had first arrived.
He thought about everything he had put in their contract. Everything about punishments and domination. But this wasn’t the moment for that.
This was the moment to lavish her.
And he had never wanted anything more. Then to make her feel good in that moment.
To undo some of the hurt that he had caused.
He had never done that before. Had never tried to heal anything in himself that was wounded. Had never tried to fix a hurt he’d caused.
Had never tried to take back something that he had said.
He was a man who held grudges. He had done so all of his life.
But he had never tried to repair anything. And each kiss over her skin was an attempt to repair a crack that he had put there.
“Now I want you naked,” she said.
She scooted up the bed, resting her elbows against the pillows there. She looked at him, direct and strong. He moved away from her, and began to loosen his tie, unbuttoned his shirt.
“Completely naked. No more of this half-dressed nonsense.”
He shrugged off his jacket, unbuttoned his shirt, cast it down to the floor.
