Chapter Fourteen #3
He slowly slid his gaze down and then up the length of her. Heat and desire burned bright in her eyes, but there, below the surface, lay a touch of apprehension, a hint of doubt.
Something in his chest squeezed tight.
He wanted to reach out and brush his fingers along the smooth, satiny fabric of her dress. But he hesitated, unsure about what she was thinking. He lifted his hand to touch her cheek but then stopped before he made contact, his hand hovering in the air. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing.” She shook her head, but swallowed. Her gaze dropped to the floor. He lowered his hand down to his side.
“Talk to me, Alex. Please.” He kept the words low, quiet in the silence of the room.
She stared at the carpet for another second and then looked up at him. The anxiety in her grey eyes made his chest squeeze tighter. “I haven’t been with anybody since Kevin. I’m just a little nervous, is all.”
Her voice said there was more to it. And while part of him wanted to ignore it, just get on with things, he couldn’t. If they were going to do this, he wanted nothing between them. There would be no what ifs or regrets when the sun rose tomorrow.
He cupped her cheek. Like he’d done, she leaned into the touch, although she closed her eyes. She looked so vulnerable. “And?”
She opened her eyes. Her lips tilted up in a sad smile.
“I know I’m not perfect.” She whispered the words, but kept her gaze locked with his.
“My breasts are too small, my hips too narrow. I have stretch marks.” She took a deep breath.
“And I know you could have your pick of women, so I’m having a bit of a hard time figuring out why you’d ever pick me. ”
The ache in his chest magnified a million times, turning sharp.
But the pain was quickly overtaken by anger.
Because the only way she could have such specific doubts was because someone had specifically pointed out her so-called flaws.
And since she hadn’t been with anyone except her asshole ex-husband, he knew exactly who to blame.
“You are exquisite.” He took her face between both of his hands, making sure she couldn’t look away. “And there is absolutely nothing wrong with your beautiful body. Anyone who looks at you and sees anything but perfection is either blind or an asshole.”
She barked out a laugh. Some of the worry in her gaze slipped away.
He brushed his lips against hers in the barest hint of a kiss. It wasn’t enough, it would never be enough. Wanting to take things further, he tilted his head, but she stepped back.
His protest died on his tongue when she grabbed the side of her dress.
Right where the zipper was hidden.
He followed the slow glide of her fingers, the soft whisper of the teeth loud in the silence. She pushed the teeny tiny straps off her shoulders. The dress slipped down her body to pool as a red silk puddle at her feet.
His breath caught in his chest. She wasn’t wearing a bra, which, now that he thought about it, made sense, since the dress straps were so tiny.
Her gorgeous breasts, which were in no way too small, were tipped with the most perfect pink nipples.
They were hard and begging for his touch. Or his mouth.
He let his gaze travel lower, had to clench his muscles tight to stop from falling on his ass. Or maybe his knees—which might not be a bad idea. Later.
She wore the teeniest, tiniest pair of underwear he’d ever seen.
All the moisture dried up in his mouth as he stared at her. She was exquisite. Tall and lean, with smooth, creamy skin. Curves that, while not pronounced, were perfect. Everything about her was perfect.
He knew he should say something, ease her insecurities, but his brain and mouth refused to form words. His cock, however, was ready to have an entire conversation, straining hard behind his fly.
She must have taken his ineptitude as something good, because some of the tension in her shoulders melted away.
She started undoing the buttons on his shirt.
While she was busy, he kicked off his shoes and held his arms around her, caging her in, so he could undo the buttons at the cuffs behind her back.
He didn’t want anything to slow this down.
She laughed, and yanked the tails of his shirt out of his jeans, a frantic edge to the movement. He undid the shirt cuffs and lowered his hands back to his sides, even though it killed him to not wrap himself around her completely.
Sliding the shirt off his shoulders, she let it drop onto the floor. He kicked it and his shoes aside, which just happened to be under the bed. Oh, well. He’d fish them out later.
She stepped forward, right into his space. Tilted her face up to capture his lips. Her hot, almost naked body pressed against his.
He groaned at the way her hard nipples dug into his chest, at the way her skin burned where it met his. She opened her lips. He swept his tongue into her mouth. Desire and desperation drove him.
He slid his hands to her waist and then down over the curve of her hips. Her skin was soft and smooth beneath his fingers. He hauled her closer, pulling her flush against him, sliding his hands around to grab her ass again.
She was wearing a thong. All he felt was warm skin.
She moaned into the kiss.
The sound slid through him, making him ache.
She must have felt the same way because she wiggled her hands between them, fumbling with his belt buckle. He eased his hips back to give her more room, but refused break the kiss. He couldn’t. She tasted too incredible, the hot, wet brush of her tongue against his too addictive.
He nibbled on her lower lip. She yanked his belt off, tossed it across the room. He would have laughed, but couldn’t focus on anything but the hot, wet brush of her tongue against his.
She then set about tackling his jeans. He really should help her. The faster he got his pants off, the faster he could go back to touching her.
With a growl, he pulled away from her lips and placed his hands over top of hers. She made her own almost growly, disappointed noise in the back of her throat. He smiled, although it felt strained. He knew exactly how she felt. Not touching her for even a second was torture.
She kicked off her shoes and sat down on the bed, watching him. Her gaze was glued to his fingers. Where they rested on the waistband of his jeans. He popped the button free. She licked her lips. Seriously, she was going to be the death of him.