Chapter 15
The Limo doesn’t circle the Strip on the way home this time. The driver is instructed to take the shortest route possible and I don’t know if I should be pleased about that or not.
I’m nervous.
Sex has always made me nervous. I’ve never really enjoyed it. Never wanted it. I just did it because that’s what is expected of you when you’re a wife or fiancé.
Until now.
This, whatever I have going on here with Denham King, is different.
I know it’s different because I feel a tingle start in my toes when he looks at me. It travels through every inch of my body, to the top of my head, every follicle, every nerve ending on high alert which thrills me as much as it frightens me.
What if I’m not good enough?
What if he doesn’t like my body?
I know my nerves are unwarranted. Denham has shown me more love and compassion in the few days we’ve known each other than any man ever has.
A few days. Less than one week.
Is it too soon? Does this make me a slut?
I can’t do it.
A large hand creeps along my collarbone and gently grips the nape of my neck. I turn to meet his compelling eyes and something in his manner soothes me.
I can do it.
I want to do it, more than I’ve ever wanted to do anything.
I catch a glint of the golden flecks in his eyes as he looks over me seductively.
His look.
His touch.
It calms me. Makes me feel like anything is possible. I just need to learn to reach out and grab it with both hands.
He kisses the pulsing hollow at the base of my throat and works his lips upwards.
Sucking … Licking … Nipping …
Leaving a searing path until he reaches my lips, claiming me hungrily and without apology.
When the Limo slows he pulls back, leaving me breathless and wanting more.
“Arianna—”
“Shhhh.” I soothe, pressing my finger to his lips, knowing what he’s about to say. My eagerness this evening is reassurance enough. We’ve danced for days, now it’s time for the main show.
He smiles and kisses my finger before jumping out of the door purposefully and extending a hand to help me out. He walks calmly through the main foyer of the hotel, his demeanor confident. But underneath the cool, calm facade he is emitting, I sense this is something deeper for him as well.
We enter the elevator, the usual crackle of electricity bouncing between us when we’re in this confined, intimate space. Denham takes up his usual position by my side, holding my hand and facing the doors, trying to disguise his elevating pulse rate and fast, shallow breathing.
I drop his hand and stand in front of him, my back to the doors, and he looks to me questioningly.
I want to show him that I’m ready, more than ready.
I know he needs to know that I’m whole, that my mind isn’t blurred.
“Just so you know …” I speak seriously, with an edge of seduction.
“This isn’t a snap decision.” I step into him, placing both of my hands lightly on his chest. “You’re not a rebound.
I don’t know what you are yet, but I want to find out.
” I move in closer, sliding my hands up his chest to his broad, muscled shoulders and continue to move forward, pushing him gently with my body so he backs up into the wall.
“I want you. It’s nothing more complicated than that,” I state confidently.
His eyes haven’t left mine. With each word, his pupils dilate further, the light smoldering in the gold flecks surrounding his eyes and he looks at me. Predatory. Passionate.
My hands follow the collar of his expensive cotton shirt and find the first button that’s standing in the way of his smooth, sculpted chest. He watches me with his hands by his sides, not touching or interfering, silently giving permission to continue my exploration.
I’ve seen his body. I know how it looks and I know how it feels.
But somehow this feels different. This is a different discovery of each other.
My body reacts as if this is the first time I’ve touched him, brimming with excitement and a desire that has so far been untapped.
I undo every button and tug his shirt free from his pants. I push it open and let my eyes roam freely.
No inhibitions.
No worries.
My fingers trail over every ripple of his stomach, hard and smooth until Denham’s patience snaps.
His hands capture my face, his fingers holding my jaw in place while he burns into me with his hungry stare.
His head dips slowly, and I take in every second, every breath, then his lips crash into mine. Fast. Feverish.
His tongue finds mine and strokes coaxingly, a mutual exploration and a discovery of something very special indeed. I faintly hear the ding of the elevator reaching the penthouse and the doors sliding open as Denham walks us backwards, not breaking our kiss.
We reach the door in a tangle of hands and clothes.
I can’t touch him enough, I want to feel every part of him, every inch, even if it takes me all night to do it.
He pushes the door open and I’ve barely stepped in before he scoops me up into his arms and kicks the door shut behind him.
He carries me effortlessly, his breaths coming rapidly through desire as opposed to exertion.
He lets my legs down gently until I’m standing albeit shakily.
“Ari, this is your last chance to back out. I want you … God, I want you,” he says squeezing his eyes together, “but if you don’t want to … I won’t … I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”
I don’t answer with words.
I kiss him, every feeling poured into the sensations passing through our lips and he understands perfectly.
I can’t stop. I don’t want to. For the first time in my life, I’m in charge of how I feel.
I don’t want it to be over as soon as possible so I can scrub the feeling away in the shower and hopefully not have to do it again too soon.
I want it to last all night. I want to be able to touch him every day, make him mine and give myself to him in return.
“Turn around,” he orders huskily.
I do as he asks without hesitation. I face away from him, but make sure I turn slowly so his eyes can drink me in. He slides the dress off my shoulders, down my arms and pushes it gently over my hips. The garment pools at my feet until I’m standing in only heels and black lace panties.
He groans and his finger lightly touches the back of my neck before he trails it down my spine. He elicits a shiver from me and his touch twinned with the exposure causes my nipples to peak. He takes his time, placing feather-light touches in the curve of my waist, the backs of my legs …
I hear the thunk of his shoes being discarded, then the clink of his belt buckle being undone. His hands travel back up and down my body, deliciously torturous, until they come to rest on my shoulders.
He turns me toward him gently and sucks in a deep breath when I’m fully facing him.
His hand cups one of my breasts, gently stroking my nipple with his thumb.
Fire jolts of electricity to my core and I let out a whimper.
He takes a step back and keeps me at arm’s length, letting his gaze drift over my hard nipples and dropping down to my flat stomach, then traveling the length of my legs.
“Mmm, black lace,” he mutters appreciatively. “And heels. I love the heels.”
If it were anyone else I would feel objectified, but it’s not anyone else. It’s Denham King and I feel beautiful. Desired.
“I want to see you in just heels more often … and diamonds …” he muses. “Yes, heels and diamonds.”
I can’t wait any longer. I step toward him and reach for the button on his pants, his belt is hanging open and his torso is on display. He is an Adonis.
Sculpted. Bronzed. Beautiful.
I undo his zipper and slide my hands in the waistband of his pants, pulling them down to join my dress on the floor, I’m met with skin.
No boxers. No briefs. Hot, smooth skin with no more barriers between us.
I take a deep breath, knowing that this seductive undressing is about to come to an end and I need a minute to try and gather my thoughts.
He’s gloriously naked in front of me, so I give in to my desire to touch him, sliding my hand between us, down the channel of his 'V'.
I take his length in my palm and wrap my fingers around him firmly. His chest shudders.
“Fuck …” I mutter under my breath.
“Was that a request, Stunner?” he jokes with a smirk, flashing me that sexy dimple.
“Yes,” I reply seriously. “I can’t take it anymore. I want you inside me.”
His eyes widen and his body stills. I’ve stunned him with my directness.
He seals my words with a hard kiss and backs me up to the bed before laying me down gently. My hair falls around my head in ringlets and Denham leans down to touch it.
“I love your hair in curls. I love your hair any way you wear it. You’re perfect, Ari, you really are.
” I don’t turn away at his words. “You’re not embarrassed that I called you perfect, Arianna?
” he says, his finger trailing lightly from the curl in my hair, along my collarbone and down my body between my breasts.
He stops when he reaches my stomach and places the heel of his hand over my sex.
“No, I’m not embarrassed,” I whisper.
“Would you be embarrassed if I did this?” He dips his head and sucks one of my tight nipples into his mouth.
The pressure increases in my core and I rotate my hips against his hand, trying to find some friction.
He groans against my flesh, releasing my nipple from his lips and blowing gently across the wet skin, causing it to tighten and peak.
My chest tightens and my breath is shallow. “No,” I reply hoarsely.