Stepping back from her body, he took her by the hand and led her to the guest room. Once they were over the threshold, he closed the door, locked it, and brought her to the side of the bed.
His fingers trailed up her bare arms, over the cold-shoulder sleeves, and across the back of the dress until they found the zipper. With a gentle, firm pull, he lowered it until it would go nofurther, then traced her spine with his fingertips, bottom to top, until they were level with the top of the dress.
Inch by inch, he dragged the material over her breasts, her arms, her torso, her hips, and let it fall at her feet, until she stood before him in just a pair of silk thong underwear, the palest shade of pink.
Raising the back of one hand to her face, he stroked up and down lightly over her cheek.
The Utah memory returned, but from later in the trip. The first time he saw a horse up close.
It wanted attention, wanted the apple he held out, but it had been whipped by its previous owner and was nervous. He’d simply stood, silent, his hand out with the apple on his flattened fingers, waiting out the horse. It had taken almost an hour of the horse leaning forward, taking half steps toward Triumph, and sometimes taking a step or two backward.
Triumph never wavered. He stood. Waited. Waited some more. He continued to wait. And after more than ninety minutes, the horse was finally close enough to softly take the apple from his hand.
Even when the horse was chewing the treat, he stayed still, waiting, with his hand outstretched. The horse watched him, its dark eyes considering him through stray hairs of its dark forelock, until, less than ten minutes later, it stood forehead to forehead with him as Triumph slowly and lightly dragged the back of his hand up and down the mare’s soft nose.
Glennon was not a horse. But she did have long legs and powerful thighs. She had the dark hair with the blond tips and beautiful dark eyes. And her skin was the softest he’d ever touched.
Like that horse, she was nervous. She’d known pain. She’d known cruelty. And now she knew Triumph. She wanted his love. So no matter how long it took, he’d work for it. And evenonce she trusted him enough to take it, he’d hold true until she understood just what it meant to be loved by him.
With that single touch to her skin, heat exploded inside him, and a wave of arousal sped through his system. Electricity sizzled along his veins to press against the barrier of his skin. Waves of energy pulsed, threatening to find any weakness so they might escape his body, then ooze out of the cracks and fill the air around them.
Over and over, he threaded his fingers through her hair, dropping kiss after kiss across her face, neck, shoulders, and upper chest. Between his caresses and kisses, he told her what she needed to hear.
“Nothing happens without your consent.”
“You give it, or I don’t take it.”
“You set the rules, and I play within them.”
“If you need to use your safe word, use it.”
“If something’s too much.”
“If something hurts.”
“If something scares you.”
“Anything at all feels wrong, use it.”
“I don’t care if I’m still clothed, ready to push inside you, or mid-act.”
“You tell me.”
She wriggled, her hips arching into him, and a soft sound of distress came from her.
All movement and kisses stopped. His eyes held hers. “Promise me.”
“I promise. Please, Triumph.”
“Mason,” he corrected her. “I don’t care what you call me otherwise, but in bed, I want my name.”
Lips to hers, his name came out with an exhale that was pleading and desperate. He took advantage of the opening, sliding his tongue inside to stroke alongside hers. Warmth.Controlled, confident strokes. Nips meant to sting while heightening her awareness, and suckles meant to soothe while bringing her back to earth. It was as if his tongue was mating with hers, showing her what bliss he could bring her.
Finally needing air for himself, he pulled back from her mouth and her hands. Seeing a look of confusion on her face at the separation, he told her, “Get on the bed. Make sure you’re comfortable, then reach up and grab the spindles. I’ll be right back, and I want you to be ready for me.”
Backing up three steps, he watched her slide onto the bed. Assured she would do as told, he turned and walked into the bathroom.
In the top vanity drawer, as he suspected, was a brand-new box of condoms. He opened it, took several from the box, and headed back into the bedroom.
