He shifted a little, removing a bit of his weight from her. “After last night, I just want to be sure you feel up for it.”
“Why wouldn’t I be up for it?” she asked. “I wasn’t badly injured. You must have as many bruises as I do.”
He didn’t answer that charge, but pressed his lips to her jawline almost absently. “It’s not about the injuries. I don’t want you to push too hard after that kind of fear.”
She swallowed hard, that fear he was referring to flickering a little in her mind. Memories racing, mixed with her tangled emotions about this man. Then he kissed her neck gently and some of it faded.
“I-I was afraid, of course,” she whispered, because saying it too loudly felt like it would conjure something she didn’t want to face. “Terrified,” she corrected, then she tilted her head and he lifted his own, and suddenly their eyes were locked. “But you kept me safe.”
The moment the words left her lips, she longed to take them back, because something shifted in his expression. A wash of emotion flooded over him, though she couldn’t tell if it was positive or negative because he erased it so swiftly. She expected him to pull away, to even remind her of the boundaries of their affair.
But instead he lowered his mouth back to hers, and just before he kissed her again he whispered, “I want to make you feel safe, Bernadette. Always.”
Alwayswas such a loaded word, but she forgot about that, forgot about everything but him when his hands began to move against her body. While he kissed her, he slid his fingers down her side, bunching her thin chemise against her body. When his palm cupped her bare hip beneath the blankets, she couldn’t help but gasp against his mouth.
He’d touched her skin so many times—how could every time be so new? So powerful? She had no answers and no way to fight against his arsenal when he deepened his kiss and slid his hand around and behind her backside to lift her a little against him.
She moaned, flexing her hips higher, trying to find him through all the layers of the blankets that separated them. He smiled against her mouth and pulled away, getting back to his feet. As she stared at him through a hooded gaze, she saw that he wanted her. His dressing gown was tented with the proof. When he removed it, he was hard, curled against his body.
She pushed the covers away and pulled her chemise over her head so that she was naked too. His gaze moved over her and she felt on steady ground again, at least for a moment. When he looked at her like he wanted her, at least she understood that and what it meant for them.
But then she saw a huge bruise on his arm and she caught her breath. “Oh Theo!”
He shook his head. “If you aren’t injured, neither am I. And right now I can’t feel pain, Etta. There’s only you.”
He returned to the bed, shoving the blankets away the rest of the way as he covered her once more. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, dragging her nails lightly against the skin and loving how his kiss grew wilder when she did so. But if she expected a quick, passionate joining, that didn’t seem to be what he had in mind.
He moved his lips back to her throat, sucking and nibbling and licking like they had all day to do this. A bewitching thought, indeed. He drew lower, kissing her collarbone, grazing the bruise on her shoulder with his lips, sliding lower until he reached her breasts where he paused.
He glanced up at her, watching as he slowly circled one nipple with just the tip of his tongue. Immediately, heated sensation raced through her, but of course he’d known it would. They’d established in all their nights together that even the barest touch there would send her arching and moaning beneath him. Sometimes it felt like a game or erotic torture when he languidly spent his time here.
This morning was no different. He smiled against her, increasing the pressure of his tongue, lapping her gently and repeatedly. She dug her hands into his hair, grinding against him in an attempt to get some relief from the magic he was creating. He made a low sound in his chest, pleasure that matched her own even though she was hardly touching him.
He shifted to her opposite nipple, sucking gently, harder, until she started to shake beneath him.
“Oh, that is unfair,” she murmured, laughing a little.
He smiled again and lifted his head. “How is unfair?
“Because you know what you do to me. You torment me so mercilessly.”
“God, you’re pretty when you pout,” he teased, then he sucked her nipple once more and started a trail down her ribcage. She opened her legs wider, twisting a little when he kissed along her hip. He hesitated and she opened her eyes to see why. He was looking at the bruise there, the heat fading from his stare.
“Theo,” she whispered, drawing his attention away from the mark. “I can’t feel pain. There’s only you.”
He started a little at her repeat of his earlier words, but then he nodded slowly and dropped his mouth back to her thigh, curving along the top edge before he nuzzled his stubbled cheek against the sensitive inner flesh. She gasped at the sensation, at his breath against her sex. He peeled her open, rubbing gently with his thumbs before he leaned in and licked her.
“Oh,” she gasped, digging her fingers back into his thick hair.
He chuckled against her but didn’t remove his mouth. He continued to lick gently, exploring, taking his time, finding all the spots that brought her pleasure and moaning when she twisted or gasped beneath him. He knew her body so well, learned by careful attention every other time he’d made her come, and he played her like a beautiful instrument, drawing her up to the edge of pleasure, keeping her there as she writhed.
Her breath came shorter and shorter, her legs trembled as the sensation mounted, as he added a finger to her sheath and she gripped it as she ground against him.
“Please,” she whispered, not caring that she was begging.
He sucked more firmly, increased the gentle thrust of his finger. And she came, flying from the edge, her back bending, her fingers clenching against his scalp. He drew her further and further, never relenting as she moaned and cried out his name in the quiet. Only when she flopped back, the waves of pleasure becoming electric jolts, did he lift his head from between her legs.
She moaned again, because the vision of him, chin wet with her release, eyes bright with desire, was almost too much to bear. Had he ever been more beautiful?
