Chapter 16
Carter
I start with her pants, slipping two fingers behind the waistband and using my other hand to pop the button free. The linen falls in a shapeless heap from her legs, pooling around her ankles on the floor.
My fingers deftly push the shirt she unbuttoned from one shoulder, then another, until she stands there in only her bra and panties, staring at me, waiting for what I’ll do next.
I trail a fingertip along the cup of her bra, tracing the swell of her breast from arm to sternum. “Like I said, porcelain.”
An appreciative hum follows my words as I make my way up over the other side, not wanting to show favoritism, I guess. Then I dip my head and kiss her collarbone. Her head falls back, and she laces her fingers together behind my neck for stability.
“You’re wearing far more clothes than me, Carter.”
“That’s entirely on purpose. I need some sort of barrier in place so I don’t embarrass myself.”
Bringing my head back up, I take her mouth again with mine, sucking her perfect top lip, then switching to the fuller bottom one. Nibbling, licking, sucking, I do everything I can to fan the flames and push her need higher and higher, and when my thumbs slip into the sides of her boy short panties, she sighs.
From relief? From desire? From anticipation? I don’t know, but I want to hear that sound again and again tonight.
“Yes, please,” she whispers.
My mouth stays fused to hers as the soft white cotton joins the pile of fabric on the floor. I pull back and look her in the eye. “We need a safe word. You need a safe word.”
“Do you plan to introduce bondage or restraints in the next few hours?”
My eyes widen in surprise. “Umm, no?”
But, damn it, now I’m thinking about her wrists bound and secured to my headboard so that I can do whatever the fuck I want with this perfect body in front of me. So I can lick her — everywhere — until she explodes.
“Then I don’t need a safe word. I trust you, Carter. I trust you’ll stop if I ask you to stop.”
I nod, hoping my face reflects how much that means to me. “Okay… okay, then.”
Then, what I’d imagine to be the two most foreign words in Dr. Amelie Evans’ vocabulary fall from her lips: “Touch me.”
“Yeah?” I answer, getting one more split-second of consent.
“Yeah.”