My shoulders slump with relief, the tension in my body lessening somewhat. He didn’t push. Green flag.
“Should I keep my shirt on, too?” he asks.
“Only if you want to.” As much as I’d love to see the firm muscles I know are under his clothes, fair’s fair.
In answer, he reaches for the top button of his shirt. My eyes are glued to his wide hands as he makes quick work of the shirt, shrugging it off his shoulders before pulling off his undershirt. His broad muscled chest makes my fingers itch to grab a pencil and sketch him, capturing the lines and shadows on paper so I can keep them forever.
Or, more realistically, I could touch him right now. My mouth goes bone-dry.
“Just so you know, I don’t expect you to seduce me,” I blurt out. “This doesn’t have to be some big romantic thing. We can just get it done with.”
A muscle jumps in his jaw. “No. We can’t.”
I blink. “Why not?”
His hands clench into fists at his sides. “I have to get you warmed up for me, Maura. It’s the only way this will work long-term. If we’re going to do this for multiple days every month, it’ll be too hard if you’re sore.”
“Oh.” I guess that makes sense, even though sex has never left me particularly sore before.
“Besides, there’s no reason this can’t be physically pleasurable for both of us. I can make you feel good without getting emotion involved,” he says. “Trust me. Let me show you how good it could be for us.”
The words send a fluttering pulse between my thighs. My body temperature feels like it’s just spiked a degree or ten. “Okay. That sounds—yes.”
James doesn’t laugh at my stammering answer. He strides closer, until there’s maybe a foot between us. I have to look up tomeet his hooded eyes. He raises his hand, making the muscles of his bicep jump, but he doesn’t touch me.
“Can I touch your face?” The words rumble from him, sending vibrations down my spine.
“Yes,” I breathe. His thumb skates over my lower lip, and my mouth opens for him automatically.
“Beautiful,” he whispers as he moves to cup my face in his hand. He brushes a few strands of hair back behind my ear, and my eyes flutter shut. It’s too much, having him look at me like this, his full attention focused on me.
Heat radiates off his body as he steps closer. “How about your neck? Can I touch you there?”
I nod, and the back of his fingers brush over the exposed skin. My chin tilts up automatically, giving him access. His fingertips move around to the nape of my neck, threading through the hair at the nape of my neck.
“How about your collar?” he murmurs. “I won’t go under your shirt.”
My shoulders tense. I have to trust him now, trust that he won’t push my limits. “Yes.”
His thumb skates along the high collar of my skirt. Half of his digit touches my skin, the other burns through the thin fabric. Cool relief courses through my veins, making me want more of his hands on me. If he keeps asking me so respectfully, it’s going to take forever, and frankly, I’d like to feel himnow.
“Touch me, please,” I breathe. “You can touch me anywhere, James.”
He lets out a low groan and his hands close around my waist, spanning the distance from my waist to just under my breasts. His thumbs stroke my ribs, comforting, like he did with my hand while we were at the altar. My skin prickles at the sensation, even through the fabric.
“I want to kiss you, Maura. I swear, I’ll stop the moment you want me to. Can I?”
“Yes,” I plead.
His lips brush lightly against mine, teasing me. Liquid heat drips down my spine like honey. He’s barely touched me, and already I’m craving him more than I did the other men I slept with.
Gripping my waist tighter, he pulls my body tight against his. His lips press harder against mine, demanding and hungry. I whimper, opening for him, and his tongue strokes mine in a long, controlled movement.
I’m lost in the feel of him as his wide hands travel up and down my sides, making me shiver against his touch. His hands drag down, closing around my ass and squeezing it. There’s not much there to grab. I’ve always been self-conscious about my slim hips and general lack of curves, but judging by the way James groans against my mouth, he likes the feel of me just fine.
“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he mutters. “I can’t wait to feel you without this.”
His fingers move to the side zipper of my skirt, sliding it down until the silk slides down my legs and pools on the floor. The air is cool against my skin, and I’m suddenly aware of just how bare I am. I wore a thong with this skirt to avoid lines, and there’s only a thin band of fabric covering my seeping pussy. I press my thighs together, feeling my own dampness on my skin.
