I know my nerves are unwarranted. Denham has shown me more love and compassion in the few days we’ve known each other than any man ever has.
A few days. Less than one week.
Is it too soon? Does this make me a slut?
I can’t do it.
A large hand creeps along my collarbone and gently grips the nape of my neck. I turn to meet his compelling eyes and something in his manner soothes me.
I can do it.
I want to do it, more than I’ve ever wanted to do anything.
I catch a glint of the golden flecks in his eyes as he looks over me seductively.
His look.
His touch.
It calms me. Makes me feel like anything is possible. I just need to learn to reach out and grab it with both hands.
He kisses the pulsing hollow at the base of my throat and works his lips upwards.
Sucking … Licking … Nipping …
Leaving a searing path until he reaches my lips, claiming me hungrily and without apology.
When the Limo slows he pulls back, leaving me breathless and wanting more.
“Arianna—”
“Shhhh.” I soothe, pressing my finger to his lips, knowing what he’s about to say. My eagerness this evening is reassurance enough. We’ve danced for days, now it’s time for the main show.
He smiles and kisses my finger before jumping out of the door purposefully and extending a hand to help me out. He walks calmly through the main foyer of the hotel, his demeanor confident. But underneath the cool, calm façade he is emitting, I sense this is something deeper for him as well.
We enter the elevator, the usual crackle of electricity bouncing between us when we’re in this confined, intimate space. Denham takes up his usual position by my side, holding my hand and facing the doors, trying to disguise his elevating pulse rate and fast, shallow breathing.
I drop his hand and stand in front of him, my back to the doors, and he looks to me questioningly. I want to show him that I’m ready, more than ready. I know he needs to know that I’m whole, that my mind isn’t blurred. “Just so you know…” I speak seriously, with an edge of seduction. “This isn’t a snap decision.” I step into him, placing both of my hands lightly on his chest. “You’re not a rebound. I don’t know what you are yet, but I want to find out.” I move in closer, sliding my hands up his chest to his broad, muscled shoulders and continue to move forward, pushing him gently with my body so he backs up into the wall. “I want you. It’s nothing more complicated than that,” I state confidently.
His eyes haven’t left mine. With each word, his pupils dilate further, the light smoldering in the gold flecks surrounding his eyes and he looks at me. Predatory. Passionate.
My hands follow the collar of his expensive cotton shirt and find the first button that’s standing in the way of his smooth, sculpted chest. He watches me with his hands by his sides, not touching or interfering, silently giving permission to continue my exploration. I’ve seen his body. I know how it looks and I know how it feels. But somehow this feels different. This is a different discovery of each other. My body reacts as if this is the first time I’ve touched him, brimming with excitement and a desire that has so far been untapped.
I undo every button and tug his shirt free from his pants. I push it open and let my eyes roam freely.
Noinhibitions.
Noworries.
My fingers trail over every ripple of his stomach, hard and smooth until Denham’s patience snaps. His hands capture my face, his fingers holding my jaw in place while he burns into me with his hungry stare. His head dips slowly, and I take in every second, every breath, then his lips crash into mine. Fast. Feverish.
His tongue finds mine and strokes coaxingly, a mutual exploration and a discovery of something very special indeed. I faintly hear the ding of the elevator reaching the penthouse and the doors sliding open as Denham walks us backwards, not breaking our kiss.
We reach the door in a tangle of hands and clothes. I can’t touch him enough, I want to feel every part of him, every inch, even if it takes me all night to do it. He pushes the door open and I’ve barely stepped in before he scoops me up into his arms and kicks the door shut behind him. He carries me effortlessly, his breaths coming rapidly through desire as opposed to exertion. He lets my legs down gently until I’m standing albeit shakily.
“Ari, this is your last chance to back out. I want you…God, I want you,” he says squeezing his eyes together, “but if you don’t want to…I won’t…I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”
I don’t answer with words.
