“Hmm. Well, let me see.” He put his hands behind his head and adopted an undeniably professorial expression. “This requires serious consideration.”
“You take your job very seriously, it seems.”
“Impossible not to when the subject at hand is so enticing.”
His gaze raked down my body with unabashed desire. I circled my hips gently against his, relishing how hard he was.
“Well, Professor?” I murmured. “Do I pass muster?”
“In fact, you’re exemplary.”
I wrinkled my nose. “That’s far too academic a word.”
“What about resplendent?” He shifted me slightly and sat up, his arm hooked around my waist, and started pressing soft kisses to my wrist, my forearm, the crook of my elbow.
“Ravishing?” he suggested. “Irresistible?”
The low murmur of his voice against my skin made me shiver. “An improvement, certainly, but I think you can do even better.”
I’d barely said the words before he cupped the back of my neck with his hand and brought my lips down to his with a hungry little growl. The air was freezing, but wherever he touched my chilled skin felt like a warm kiss of sunshine: his mouth on mine, his thighs hard and lean beneath me. Then he palmed one of my breasts and gently pinched my nipple, and a searing jolt of pleasure made me break away from him, gasping, and reach down for the blankets that separated us. I was soaked and aching, ready to pull him free and ride him until I saw stars.
But he stopped me with a hand on my wrist and pulled back, breathing hard, with a bashful smile.
“As much as I want you to do exactly what you were about to do,” he said, his voice low and rough, “I have a request to make. It may sound silly, but I fell asleep thinking about it, and I did tell you I’vedreamt about loving you slowly.”
His words conjured images that made me even more desperate for him, but somehow I managed to control myself and keep my hands above the blankets. “I do recall something about you wanting to worship me.”
“For hours,” he added. “An important detail.”
“Well, then? I’m listening.” I canted my hips forward just enough to make him a little bit sorry for the delay. He groaned sharply and leaned into me with a breathy laugh.
“You don’t play fair,” he said, kissing my shoulder.
“Make your request before I get tired of you and go back to sleep.”
At that, he slid one hand down my abdomen to dip his fingers between my legs. I cried out sharply at his touch—fire kissing fire—and grabbed on to him, and he looked up at me with a smug grin.
“Tired of me?” he said. “Somehow I don’t think that will happen.”
“Such arrogance.”
“But is it really arrogance if it’s true?”
I pressed my forehead against his, leaning into him. “Gareth, either ask me your question or lay me back on this bed and—”
“Do you have a comb?”
I pulled back a little, blinking at him. “A comb.”
“I forgot mine, and I’d like to…” He gave me a rueful smile. “I’d like to brush your hair.”
“You’re joking.”
“I am entirely serious. Your hair is beautiful, Mara, and there are so many ways I’d like to love you. This is one of them.”
My instinct was to tease him for that, but the sincerity on his face made me bite my tongue. I climbed off him, went to my bag, and brought him one of the wooden combs I always carried with me while traveling, small enough to fit in a pocket.
I handed it to him, feeling suddenly shy. I knew how to have sex. Iwasn’t sure I knew how to do whatever this was.
