Action, not words that he could screw up.
He covered her mouth with his and took her answering moan as a “yes.”
Rather than devour as the flames leaping in his body demanded, he kissed her gently. With tenderness he didn’t even know he possessed. He let his lips linger, soften, caress.
He’d kissed Kate hundreds—thousands—of times,but in many ways it felt like the first time. It was different not because the lust wasn’t there—it was—or because he was holding it back—which he wasn’t used to doing—but becausehewas different.
He wasn’t turning away from the closeness and intimacy as he’d always done before; he was embracing it. He was letting himself feel, and maybe even more important, letting himself express those feelings.
He’d always kept a little bit of himself apart. A little bit of himself protected from disappointment. But look where that had gotten him. Divorced and alone.
This time he wanted her to know how much he cared about her.
How much he loved her.
So he held nothing back. He worshipped her with his mouth, prostrated himself with his tongue. He told her with every touch and every caress just how much she meant to him.
Everything.
She was so soft. So sweet. So cautious yet eager in her response that he felt the first stirrings of hope.
Without breaking the kiss, Colt swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. A few minutes later they were both naked.
He knelt over her, his breath catching at the display of feminine perfection beneath him: the slender, toned limbs, the flat stomach, the small round breasts with dusky pink tips, the miles and miles of flawless baby-soft skin.
For a moment, he didn’t want to touch her. It was as if she were a delicate piece of china that he could break or a pristine canvass of freshly fallen snow that he would somehow sully.
But he couldn’t do that anymore. He couldn’t put her on that kind of pedestal. He would be good enough for her. He swore it.
Just give me a chance.
He touched her then. He let his hands roam all over that flawless canvas. She didn’t break; she shattered.
He watched her face as his fingers slid up her thighs, as he swept his fingers across her dampness, as she shuddered under his touch.
“Please, Colt.”
He heard the agony in her voice and knew what she wanted, but he wouldn’t give it to her. She wanted it hard and fast. She didn’t want to hear what he was telling her.
But he wouldn’t hide behind lust, and he wouldn’t let her hide, either.
He kept his eyes on her face the whole time as he brought her to the very peak. He reveled in the power, in the gift of her response.
And then he took her with his mouth and made her come again. Slowly and deliberately. He dragged out her pleasure, not giving either of them the release they craved. No matter how much she begged. Or how hard she fought to make him lose control.
She was good at that. She’d always been good at that. But he wouldn’t let the feel of her hands on him, the grip of her body, or the lifting of her hips distract him from his purpose.
By the time he was finally sinking into her, his body was a taut, raging inferno of need. It was like trying to hold back a steam engine, but he did. He sank into her inch by inch, never letting his gaze fall from the flushed cheeks, the half-lidded gaze, or the softly parted lips.
“Why are you doing this to me?” The pleasure on her face belied the tortured sound of her voice.
“You know why.”
Their eyes met and held. Three years of disappointment and heartbreak seemed to pass between them before she looked away.
But he wouldn’t let her turn from him. He forced her gaze back to him with each small thrust of possession.
Feel this. Feel how good it is. We belong together.
