Guiltily she jerked her head upward to find herself staring into a pair of highly amused blue eyes. She cleared her throat. “Yes.”
He spooned some green salad tossed in a dressing she’d watched him make from mustard, garlic, red wine vinegar, and olive oil onto two plates. Then he added the omelets, sprinkled fresh herbs over them that he’d brought in from outside, and slid the plates onto the table.
He sat down across from her. “I can do better than an omelet,” he mumbled as he watched her tuck a fork into the fluffy cooked egg.
“I know.” She smiled. “I remember your starters. And your doughnuts.” He looked slightly mollified and then pleased when she took a bite and let out a moan of pleasure. “Wow, that’s not just an omelet. How did you get it to taste like that?”
“I’ll show you sometime.” His eyes pinned her with a heated look. “When my mind isn’t full of what I want to do to you as soon as you’ve eaten.”
Thankfully the omelet was soft and almost dissolved in her mouth, otherwise she might have choked. She’d never been stared at with such blatant, unapologetic desire.
“You’re watching me eat.”
“I’d watch you do anything.” He gave her crooked smile. “Do you know you eat like you do everything else? Deliberately, carefully, precisely.”
She nodded toward his loaded forkful. “Whereas you attack your food with carefree gusto.”
“That about sums us up.” His eyes darkened. “But I can be careful and deliberate when needed.”
It became harder and harder to keep eating, to ignore the pulse between her legs, the brush of satin against her sensitized nipples every time she moved. Especially as he wolfed his meal down and was now looking at her like he was ready to eat her alive.
She swallowed another mouthful and tried to keep her voice steady when she said, “Where are we going after this?”
She received another intense look, loaded with so much heat her skin prickled. “I want to sayyour room, because that’s where you belong, in five-star luxury, lying on sheets with a thousand thread count.” He exhaled heavily. “But fuck, Livvy, I don’t think I can wait that long.”
The need in his voice matched hers and she pushed her plate away. “Me neither.”
“Thank Christ.” He shot to his feet, upending the chair, which clattered to the floor. He marched around the table and lifted her in his arms.
Automatically, her hands went around his neck to steady herself.
She wanted to protest, to tell him she had legs, she could walk, but she was afraid if he let her down, her knees would buckle under the weight of her arousal.
Instead she studied his profile as he strode down the hallway, gaze fixed ahead, his shoulders set. A man on a mission. And his mission washer.
Panic slithered through her. Would she be able to have sex with this man and then go back to a life without it? Would he ruin her for sex with anyone else?
Her pulse rocketed as he kicked open the door to his room. She had a moment to notice it was basic but tidy before he placed her carefully on the bed and lowered his big body over hers. Then all she could see was him.
“You’re a strong, independent woman,” he whispered, gaze locked on hers. “I get it, respect it. But right now, I’m the one in charge, the one responsible for your pleasure.” He smoothed her hair back from her forehead. “Is that going to work for you?”
The instinct to disagree, to fight him for control, died as she stared into his stormy blue eyes. “Yes.”
A slow, sensual smile spread across his face. “Then turn off your brain for the next few hours and let me take care of you.”
Before he’d even undressed her, Connor knew that this moment was going to live forever in his memory. What he hadn’t expected was her utter capitulation, her readiness to let him take the reins. Nor had he factored in how responsive she would be to his touch and how much that would turn him on. Yeah, he knew how to please a woman, had learned how to hold back his own needs to make sure hers were fully satisfied.
But his body had never been tested to this level before.
“Fuck, Livvy, you’ve got to stop making those noises.” He grunted as he feathered kisses along the tops of her breasts. He’d removed her trousers and top, left her bra and underwear in place deliberately to keep himself in check. When he revealed her breasts, currently hiding behind a plain black bra, he knew he’d be toast. “You’re killing me here.”
“Then stop touching me like that,” she mumbled, letting out another sexy whimper as his fingers slid beneath the silky material between her legs and into her moist heat.
“You think I canstop?” He exhaled harshly, biting back a groan at how perfect she felt. He was desperate to yank off the rest of her underwear and plunge into her, lose himself in her, but he’d promised to take care of her. Emptying inside her after a few good pumps—which was all it would take—would be letting her down. No fucking way was he doing that. “I wish you could see yourself, laid out like a feast to be savored. All any man would want to do is devour you.”
“Oh God.” Her back arched as his fingers began to work.
It was no good; he had to take off the rest of her clothes, had to seeallof her.
