Unable to form an intelligible word, I nod. And with that, his body language changes once again. Rigid, yet not tense, his muscles bunch under his shirt. Mesmerized, I watch as he unrolls the cuff of his sleeves. Deft fingers work at the buttons of his shirt, revealing miles of tan skin. My fingers itch to graze through the dark hair dusting his chest and diving into a line beneath his waistband.
“You’re awfully quiet,” he snickers, stepping even closer to me. “But I see it in your eyes, just like you see it in mine.”
“What’s that?” I manage. Even the two simple words take a huge amount of effort on my part.
“Desire.” He steps closer still. “Need.” One more step. “Hunger.” Then his hands are on me, his fingers trailing languid circles on my shoulders and down my exposed arms.
Tucking his finger under the spaghetti strap of my dress, he locks his eyes with mine. Nodding my ascent, I give him the permission he’s seeking. The thin straps fall down my arms and he helps them glide over my elbows. Without much structure to hold it up, the dress floats to the ground, effortlessly falling from my body. The navy blue fabric pools at my feet. Remarkably, the need to cover myself up isn’t there. It’s replaced by the force locking David and I together.
His eyes roam over my body, from head to toe and back again. Standing there in a black lace bra and panties, I feel empowered by his inability to speak. A staggered breath puffs from his mouth before he grinds out, “My God.”
Stepping out of my shoes, I kick them to the side. “You’re definitely overdressed.” My fingers run over his chest and then down his stomach, following that sexy-as-fuck trail of hair. “Maybe we can change that?” I challenge, working my fingers at the buckle of his belt. His hands cover mine, but I push them away. “Let me.”
The thick column of his neck shifts as he swallows hard. Dropping his hands to the side, he keeps his eyes focused on mine. His belt lands on the floor in a loud thud, echoing the sound of the blood pounding in my ears. Following suit, he kicks his shoes and socks to the pile next to us.
Feeling brave, I work at the zipper of his pants, letting my fingers graze ever so slightly against his rock hard length pushing against the fabric. “Even that right there. It drives me crazy.” His words come out thick and gravelly, dripping with need.
“This?” I ask coyly, letting my finger glide over him once more.
“You know damn well what I mean. And yes, if you keep doing that, I can’t make any promises about taking things slowly.” Needing to see more of him, I push his pants down past his hips and he shoves them down the ground before kicking them to the side. Wrapping his hand around my wrist, he pulls it away from his body, obviously in need of a little bit of space. That much is clear by the ever-growing damp spot on his boxers.
Breaking free from his grip, I run my hands up his chest, circling the flat disc of his nipples with my thumbs. “What if I don’t want it slow?” I tease, pushing his shirt from his shoulders. “What if I want you to want me so much you have no choice but to lose control?” Tossing his shirt to the pile of clothes, I scratch my nails along his arms, watching as thin red lines appear in their wake.
Without warning, he lifts me up into his arms, holding me hard to his chest. Dipping his head to mine, he takes my lips in a hot kiss. No soft, gentle nips here. Everything about this kiss is to take what he wants, for me to give him everything he needs. Effortlessly, he carries me to my room, and only once my feet are on the floor does he pull his lips away from mine. “Stay here,” he commands, as if there’s somewhere else on the entire planet I’d rather be.
Dressed in only his boxers, he walks back out into the living room. His ass. Holy fuck. I actually crane my head out the door to watch it for a second longer before he disappears from my sight. When he returns, his arms are filled with our clothes. “Cleaning? Really? That’s what’s on your mind right now?”
Dropping everything but his pants, he fishes out a condom from his pocket. “I couldn’t care less about the damn clothes, Grace. In fact, you need to get rid of the rest of yours. But this,”—he turns the condom over in his fingers—“this is fairly important.”
Tossing it behind me, the condom lands on the bed. Then he’s on me, his lips taking mine as if his next breath needs to come from me. His arms around my waist, he walks us to the bed until the back of my knees bump into the mattress. With his fingers dancing over my skin, my eyes close, reveling in the feel of his touch. “Keep them open, baby. Look at me,” he commands, stroking his thumb over my jaw. “Even when I kiss you, look at me.” When his lips fall on mine, our eyes stay connected, letting this unnamable thing pass between us. It’s the most exposed and most comfortable I’ve ever felt with someone. As his tongue lashes against mine, the liquid heat from his eyes flows through my veins, settling low in my belly.
Working his arms behind me, he unhooks my bra, letting it fall to the floor. Following his demand, I keep my eyes open. And watching him move down my body, feeling his lips and teeth kiss and nip at my skin, it’s almost too much to take in. Across my collarbone, down the center of my breasts, his kisses make me weak, melting my body into mess of needy desire.
Circling his thumbs over my nipples, I arch my back into his touch. “Ahh,” I groan, needing more. Placing soft kisses in smaller and smaller circles, he touches every inch of my breast except where I need it most. Letting my nipples harden until it’s almost painful, he keeps licking and kissing my skin.
“Not yet,” he mutters against my skin when I push my body into his touch. Sinking to his knees, he hooks his thumbs into the thin straps of my panties, guiding them down my legs. His kisses continue down my stomach, along my thighs, everywhere except where I’m dying for him to touch, to kiss, to take. Easing me onto the bed, he has me sprawled out and completely naked. Standing above me, he tells me how goddamn beautiful I am, but leaves me writhing here needing to feel his touch once again.
Unable to go without him a minute longer, I crawl up onto my knees. “Now it’s my turn,” I threaten, raining kissing across his stomach, licking down the deep V cut into his sides. Looking up at him through hooded eyes, I hook my fingers in the waistband of his boxers and push them as far down as I can. He kicks them off and stands before me, hot and hard, waiting and ready. Every muscle in his body is pulled tight, like a bow ready to snap. Resting back on my calves, I stare at him. “David,” I whimper his name. “You’re beautiful.” Taking him in my hand, I softly caress him. Running my fingertips over his veins and ridges, I watch his face as he wars with his control.
Tightening my grip, I keep stroking him as I rise up and bring my lips to his. My tongue dives into his mouth at the same pace my hand works over him. Swallowing his growls of pleasure, I love feeling him push himself into my hand. But then, in a move so quick I barely have a moment to recognize it, he’s pulling me onto the mattress, sprawling himself on top of me.
“Remember what I said the other night, about a man not being a man if he doesn’t take care of his woman first?” His question nearly sends me over the edge, my legs shaking beneath him.
“You don’t have to,” I protest, missing the feel of him in my hand
“This has nothing to do with what I have to do,” he says against my skin, trailing kisses down to the center of my breasts. “It has everything to do with what I need.” In a frenzy of fingers and kisses, he’s all over me. Taking a nipple into his mouth, he licks over the tightened bud, making me whimper.
As he moves down my stomach, my fingers lace into his hair. His hands move to my breasts, pulling and twisting on my nipples as his mouth moves along the inside of my thighs. His hot breath cascades over my skin as his thumb strokes along the seam of my wet flesh. A cry of pleasure falls from my lips as his tongue moves against me. “You’re dripping, baby. My god, so fucking perfect.” His words fall against me, but his tongue stops. “Tell me what you want,” he demands, keeping his tongue and lips away from where I need them the most.