“I got out of the habit. Didn’t much feel like picking it up again.”
“I like that you don’t. You wear your authority in a different way.” She parted his shirt, spread her hands over his chest. “You’re in very good shape.”
“Thanks.”
And lifted her eyes to his. “So am I.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“I’m very strong for my build, and have exceptional endurance.”
“You’re the sexiest thing, in the strangest ways.” He peeled her shirt up and away.
“I—”
“Shh.” He laid his lips on hers as he boosted her onto the bed.
The dog didn’t make a sound, but Brooks could feel the guarded stare boring into his back as he lowered himself to Abigail.
Her skin was soft, warm and smooth, the muscles of her arms, her shoulders taut. And though her mouth met and answered his avidly, those eyes stayed as watchful as her dog’s.
“Close your eyes,” he murmured, nibbling his way to her throat and back.
“I like to see,” she repeated.
“Close your eyes for a minute, and just feel.”
He waited until she did, then closed his own. Then let himself sink, just a little deeper.
She felt. Nerve endings, pressure points, textures, all themore erotic with her eyes closed. A kind of trade-off for control.
She was safe, she reminded herself. She was capable. And she needed.
“Don’t think.” He skimmed his teeth over her jaw. “Just feel.”
She wasn’t sure she knew how not to think. But she kept her silence, since he seemed to prefer it, tried to let her mind relax.
Different, everything was different here, with him. She wanted to analyze why, but it was so pleasant to only experience.
Just this once, she told herself.
She softened under him, just a little. Just enough. He glided his lips along the subtle swell of her breast over the simple line of her bra, slid his tongue under the cotton, heard her breath catch. So he lingered there, stirring her while his hands roamed.
She’d opened one of the windows partway so the night breeze fluttered through, carrying the scent of the woods, the steady music of the creek.
Moonshine shimmered in hazy beams.
He flipped open the button of her pants, eased them down a few inches and felt the ridge of a tiny scar high on the blade of her hip.
He took his time, wanted time, to discover her, the angles and curves and dips, the simple clean scent of her skin, the way the muscles of her belly quivered when his lips brushed there.
Her response was just as simple, the give, the touch, the fluid rise of her legs and hips as he continued to undress her.
And then.
She erupted under him, jackknifing up, a whip of those long, firm legs, a twist of that compact body, and she was over him. Her mouth clamped down on his, ripped his dreamy languor to shreds and scorched the shreds to ashes. Her breath came on a tear as she scraped her teeth over his shoulder, slithered down, lithe and lethal as a snake, to nip at his chest while her hands tugged at his belt.
He levered up to drag her mouth back to his, to feed on the heat that radiated from her. Urgent now, urgent and hungry.
