She opened her eyes in outrage. “Don’t youdarelaugh.”
“I swear I’m not.”
Every cell in her body was vibrating with insecurity, and it killed him. He’d just have to make her see what he saw.
He approached cautiously and reached for her hand, leading her a few steps closer to the bed. “Dutch, you’re awoman. You’re luscious.” He sat on the bed and pulled her in front of him. “You’reripe.” He ran his hands up her forearms, pushing under the sleeves of his ridiculous robe. He reached her elbows, ran his thumbs across the bend there, and kept going until he gripped the softness of her upper arms.
“These arms? I want them wrapped around me.”
The crease in her brow hadn’t gone away yet, but at least she was listening to him, so he trailed his hands down her sides and hooked them under the belt of the robe.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he loosened the knot, watching her face the whole time in case she wanted him to stop. But her eyes were pinned to his hands loosening the strip of satin keeping the robe closed. Once it was undone, he let the green fabric slip through his fingers, and the robe parted at the center. He sucked in a hard breath at the vertical strip of pale skin it revealed.
“This waist?” His hands crept under the material, resting briefly on her body’s natural curves before sliding downward. “These hips?”
He tightened his grip, and she inhaled shakily.
“I want to hold on to them while I pound into you.” He looked up at her, caught her gaze. Held it. “I want to press so hard I leave bruises on your skin.”
He parted the robe just a bit more and placed a kiss on the soft swell of her stomach above her belly button.
“Duchess skin, touched by an unworthy man.”
She gasped his name, and lightning quick, he stood, spun her around, and sat her on the bed where he’d just been. This time when she looked at him he saw desire in her eyes, the first sparks of heat.
He took that as an okay to slide the robe over one shoulder. She helped him by slipping her arm free, and when he moved to peel the satin from her other shoulder, she was already in motion. The robe slid off her torso to pool on the mattress, leaving her naked from the waist up.
He had to squeeze his eyes shut to get control of himself. Pouncing on her wasn’t the next step, unfortunately. Instead, he knelt in front of her and reached out with infinite slowness, again giving her every chance to stop him. But the only change was an increase in her breathing.
“These breasts?” He glanced up at her as he filled his palms and rubbed his thumbs over the pink tips of her nipples, back and forth until they both moaned. “God, these breasts are what men dream of holding. Of licking.”
So he did, first one, then the other, until she whimpered and buried her fingers in his hair, pressing him harder against her.
He reluctantly pulled away, but he had one more point to make.
“And Faith, these thighs?” He was kissing down her body now, shifting the green satin out of the way as he moved over her stomach, her hip, down, down, down. “These soft thighs? A man could lay his head here and never want to leave.”
He nudged his body between her knees and nestled his cheek into the crease of her leg where it met her body. He breathed her in for a second, her sweetness, her arousal.
“Shift up,” he murmured, crawling onto the bed. “Let me show you.”
She wriggled backward to make room for him, and for the first time since she’d emerged from the bathroom, she smiled. It was tentative and a little hopeful, and his heart clenched at the sight of it. Ten minutes ago, he’d been anticipating pleasure. Now he was focused onher. Proving to her that she was as attractive to him as she’d ever been. As she’d always be.
He started by leaning up to kiss her. Slow, deep, a little messy. He invaded her mouth with his tongue and worked his fingers into the still-wet strands of her hair, tilting her head back to give him access to her neck.
“You always had the softest skin”—he brushed his mouth over the curve of her throat—“right here.” He let his hot breath fan over the patch of skin he’d just moistened with his tongue, and she shivered. “You still do.”
The first time he’d ever touched her, he’d done it with a mixture of enthusiasm and gratitude that this beautiful girl was letting him kiss her, unhook her bra, lift up her skirt. All these years later, his enthusiasm and gratitude were still very much in place. But this time they were joined by a third element, and an important one at that: experience.
He moved downward, kissing and touching as he went. Her collarbones, her sternum. The sides of her breast. She sucked in a gasp when he ran his teeth across one of her nipples, her hands grabbing at the comforter as a flush traveled down her neck and chest.
“There’s a plant that grows in the rain forest. Heliconia.” He spoke between long, slow sweeps of his tongue over her breasts, swirling around and around to the straining tips of each. “Their leaves are bright pink, almost red.” Another lick. A pause to suck a patch of skin into his mouth. A scrape of his teeth until her back arched. “Your nipples, Dutch. When you’re turned on, they’re that same color.” He wrapped his lips around one and sucked, then released it with a pop. “No wonder I could never get you out of my head.”
He moved faster down her body now, desperate to see if every part of her was as he remembered.
“Fuck, Dutch. Your pussy too.” He glanced up at her, but she’d tossed her head back at the first stroke of his middle finger from her slit to her clit. “Pink and pretty as a Heliconia.”
Then he settled between her legs to keep convincing her that as far as he was concerned, every part of her was perfect.
