Conversation was essentially nonexistent while we ate, content to make fuck-me eyes at each other across the table instead.
And, I had to admit, I couldn’t keep my mind from wandering to what happened next.
Since New Year’s, Lane and I had of course had sex multiple times, but we still hadn’t managed traditional missionary. Experimenting with other positions that didn’t involve Lane’s entire weight coming down on me had been fun, of course. But after Lane shared his deepest, darkest secret with me, I felt as if the final walls between us had crumbled—including my own lingering reservations about finding myself in a similar position to the night I’d been raped.
Lane wasn’t Ryan; I’dalwaysknown that, like I’d always known the other guys I’d tried with before weren’t Ryan.
But I hadn’t trusted any of them even close to as much as I trusted Lane, and knowing he trusted me equally as much wiped away my final doubts.
It was comical, how missionary was the norm, the place everyone started, and for so long it had been the one place I couldn’t allow myself to go.
Once we finished eating, put the leftovers away, and set the kitchen to rights, Lane literally swept me off my feet and carried me to the bedroom. When he was close enough, he tossed meon the bed, remaining at the foot. With one hand on his hip and the tips of his fingers on the other toying with his bottom lip, he surveyed me.
“You have no fucking idea what I want to do to you, sunny.”
“Anything.”
He raised a brow. “Anything?”
Sitting up, I got to my knees and shuffled toward him. I reached for him, and he came to me, his hands settling on my hips.
“I think…” I trailed off, my chin tipping down. This conversation seemed so silly now, like I was making a big deal out of nothing. But to me itwasa big deal. The biggest, in fact.
Lane’s fingertips tucked under my chin and forced my head back. “Sunny, you can tell me anything. Don’t hide from me.”
“I think I’m ready to try missionary,” I blurted.
He blinked in surprise. “You sure?”
Nodding, I added, “I want to feel your weight on me. I want you to surround me.”
“Fuck, you have no idea how badly I want that. But if it’s too much, you tell me and we switch positions, okay? Ifanythingis too much, tell me. Got it?”
“Yessir,” I said, giving him a mock salute.
Slowly, Lane undressed me. He bunched my sweater around my chest, and I raised my arms so he could peel it free. His fingertips trailed down my arms as I lowered them, blazing a scorching path across my collarbones, over the upper curve of my breasts, and down my sides to the waistband of my jeans. Every touch had goosebumps erupting, sending jolts of pleasure to my core. Deftly, he unbuttoned my pants and drew down the fly, then dug his palms inside to cup my ass before pushing them down. Falling back, I kicked out of them, leaving me clad in only my bra and panties.
The same ones from the photo.
“Goddamnit, woman,” he breathed, eyes darting across every inch of my exposed skin. “Even better in person.”
Lifting my hands, I pressed my fingertips to my nipples, which peaked and strained against the satin of the bow covering them.
“This isn’t fair,” I pouted, waving a hand at his fully dressed body.
With a chuckle, Lane reached behind his neck and pulled off his shirt in one smooth, sexy as hell movement, then went for his belt, dispatching his pants in record time. I would never tire of seeing his naked body, all that smooth, tan skin contrasted by the dark ink. The heavy thighs and sculpted calves. The wide but trim waist, the cut of his obliques. That precious littlesunnyI could now easily pick out amongst the rest of his tattoos.
He was a goddamn work of art, rivaling Michelangelo’s David in beauty.
And with a much bigger cock.
I scrambled backward until I could recline against the mountain of pillows, and Lane advanced, climbing up the mattress until he loomed over me.
But I wasn’t afraid. Not of him, not of this moment, not of how all-consuming my feelings for him were.
His eyes remained on mine as he plucked the end of the bow and tugged, scooping his fingers between my breasts to uncover my nipples. Then he quickly freed the clasp so my tits tumbled into his waiting palms. I thrust my chest out as I shrugged the garment off and tossed it away. Those calloused thumbs brushed over my nipples, and I threw my head back, eyes fluttering closed at the delicious sensation.
“Hope you weren’t planning on getting any sleep tonight,” he mused as he traced a single finger around my nipple, dipping into the valley of my chest and back up to the other side.
