Chapter 9 #2
He laughed at the frustrated look on her spectacular face and slid down until he was facing her. “Better?”
“Much.”
“Good. Glad to be of service.”
“Thanks for the most delicious meal I’ve ever had.”
“Better not let Andre hear you say that.” He wanted to tuck the thick coil of hair behind her ear.
He was going to make his move and soon.
“Tell me about your project,” he said instead, to distract himself.
“Sure, you want to hear?”
“I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”
She shrugged. “Just let me know when you get bored.”
“Fair enough.”
She had started making her list and contacting the people to do the renovations. The sale had gone through smoothly, and she suspected Craig had a lot to do with it.
He had insisted on representing her, of course.
“I’m calling it ‘Natural You.’”
“Catchy name,” he murmured.
“I think so. I’ve been in the modeling world for a very long time, and it struck me that it’s all false. Models get airbrushed and made to look impossibly beautiful.”
“Except you.” This time he allowed himself the indulgence and brushed his fingers over her cheek.
“You don’t even need makeup.”
Pleasure bloomed at his compliment, her eyes sparkling.
“Some of us don’t. But I do believe that true beauty comes from within, and every woman has the ability to portray that beauty. It doesn’t matter the ethnicity or the size, or using paints to cover up flaws. If I have a mole here or a scar there, it should be part and parcel of the package.”
He stared at her curiously. “You want women to be shown just as they are?”
“It’s women. I’ve seen a lot of insecurities in my profession, and a lot of damn pressure.”
He brushed away the thick coil of hair. “That’s the reason you wanted out.”
“That, and the fact that it was getting to me, and I was getting too old for the damn game.”
“You look like you just turned sixteen.” He grinned at her dirty look.
“I hated myself when I was sixteen.”
“Why?”
“Because-” She stopped when she realized she had been about to dive into the forbidden. “Nothing.”
His hand cupped her face, his expression intense. “Tell me.”
She started to refuse, but something about his sincerity, the way he held her, had her opening up.
“He left around that time. My dad.”
She lowered her eyes as she felt the tears stinging. “He just left.”
She started moving away, but he wouldn’t let her. Letting go of her face, he slid his hand over her arm and drew her closer.
“I blamed myself.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “It’s just, I don’t know.”
“You were a child and had nothing to do with why he left.” Craig felt the impotent rage at the man who had been so callous with her feelings, and hoped to God he would one day have a chance to confront him.
“That’s what I keep telling myself. Anyway, I went through a period of depression that seemed to last forever. Dylan helped me through it. Even though he was going through his own hell, he helped me through mine. His mother is a piece of work.”
“It must have been horrible for both of you.” He could not tell her that he had heard all of it from her brother.
“My mother loved him,” she murmured. “Even when he left without a word and didn’t stay in touch, she still loved him.”
“Did you resent her for it?”
“I did.” She gave him a surprised look for his intuitiveness.
“I tried not to, because she was such a damn good mother. But I found myself wondering how she could still be in love with a man who used her and left her, with not only the child they made together, but one that did not belong to her.”
“Did you still love him?” he asked her softly.
She started to say no, but stopped. “I see what you’re doing,” she whispered.
“What is that?”
“Making me see reason. His actions did not kill the love. It was still there.”
She shrugged. “Now it’s not.”
“It died a natural death.” He was stroking her back slowly, up, down, lulling her, soothing her.
“It did.”
“But you’re still hurting.” His tone was so understanding, so comforting, that she couldn’t help but draw even closer.
“Yes.” Her voice was a whisper.
It slid over his skin like silk.
And he just had to kiss her, to touch his mouth to hers, to taste, to try and take away the hurt and the pain. He wanted to do that for her, to ease the way for her so that she would never hurt again.
He wanted to protect her. The need to do so was fierce.
Regina sank into the kiss. All around them, nature had slowed down; the wind whistled quietly through the trees; the river rolled along gently, as if respecting their privacy.
Her hands came up to circle his neck, her body turning into his naturally. He felt her yielding and sighed softly, mouth brushing hers.
She wanted softness, and he was going to give it to her, as a reassurance that he was here, and that he was staying.
His hands drifted up to massage the back of her neck. His tongue teased her lips open and sipped quietly from her.
He was hungry, craving her with a violence he had to leash. Not yet.
Not yet. He could wait.
He could give her the time she needed.
When she moaned and stirred against him, he deepened the kiss just a little more, his tongue touching hers gently, slowly, tasting, savoring, teasing, until she was moaning, until she wanted more.
“Soon,” he whispered the promise as he took her for another dizzying spin that had her clutching his shoulders, then wrapping her hands around his neck.
When she started to demand, her body brushing his, he knew his time to be gentle, to be slow, was at an end. He wanted to speak words to her, to tell her how he felt, what he wanted from her, but now was not the time.
He told her with his body. The kiss became torrid, his hands moving down to grip her bottom, urging her against him, allowing her to feel how much he was craving her.
He swallowed her gasp, his mouth moving on hers with a hunger that was too intense.
Regina was lost. She wanted him, more than she had ever wanted anyone in her life.
She had felt it earlier, and the intensity had frightened her. Now she was embracing it, and she wanted more.
When his mouth left hers, she felt adrift, lost. But he was already kissing her cheek, sliding his lips across to her lobe, teasing it, using his tongue to explore her ear.
Her body felt light, weightless. Heat trembled and blossomed, making her want even more.
Her breasts were full and heavy, the nipples painful. She wanted his mouth on them.
As if sensing the need, he rolled her over and slid his hand under her top, touching her bare skin. A groan escaped him when he felt the smooth skin.
Lifting his head, he stared at her, eyes darkened, face flushed with passion. Without a word, she lifted a hand to touch his face.
“Regina.” His voice was hoarse, his body already shaking.
“I want you.”
He laughed, the breath strangled in his throat. Her declaration was not what he was longing to hear, but it was a start, a beginning.
In the past, those words would never have left her mouth, and it was what had been so frustrating. He considered the fact that they were making progress.
“Want is too tame a term for what I’m feeling. We should go in-”
“No.” She lifted the shirt and pulled it over his head, leaving his upper body bare. His skin was tanned, the muscles in his chest defined.
Placing her hands there, she combed her fingers through his chest hairs and felt him quiver. “Right here.”
“Sweetheart-” he groaned when she passed a nail over his nipple. “It might rain.”
“Then it rains. I want you now.”
“The board, it might be too rough.”
“The blanket is soft.”
“If you insist.”
“I do.” She slid her hands over his chest to circle his neck, and he was lost.
Her scent, the feel of her against him, was heady. He had no choice.
His control was slipping. Trailing his fingers up and down her back, he untied the string that held her blouse together and slipped it over her head.
The blood was already rushing to his head, his skin heating up. Desire spun like quicksilver, especially when she pressed her body to his.
Her nipples branded his skin, making him even hotter.
Biting off a groan, he dipped his head and feasted. Pushing her back on the cushion, he cupped her breasts and used his tongue to circle the flesh.
Her body arched, fingers digging into his hair as her world turned upside down. This was what she had been foolishly denying herself.
The pleasure was so exquisite it was painful, sharp jagged edges tearing at her insides and making her weak.
She tasted of silk and honey. The combination went to his head like the scotch he liked to sip.
She was his weakness, his Achilles heel. Wanting her was making him crazy.
But he was going to take his time, to sip, to savor, to enjoy. He wanted the pleasure to last.
His mouth trailed down her flat stomach, quivering from the emotions he was stirring inside her. Love for her blossomed, bursting through his body like wildfire.
Sliding his fingers down, he unhooked her pants, easing them down over her hips, and felt a jolt straight through him when he encountered bare skin.