Chapter 11
Dawn was streaking the sky when he finally allowed her to fall into an exhausted slumber.
Four times was a record even for him. He was so energized, so hooked.
It felt as if he was on drugs. Her skin, the taste of her, the texture, and the scent filled him to overflowing.
He could make love to her for days, months, years, and never ever get enough.
He lingered over her tirelessly, using his mouth to sip, savor, and satisfy his raging hunger.
The intense pull of desire had him shaken.
He introduced her to intimacies that had her calling out his name and begging for release.
He drew it out, deliberately. He wanted her whimpering, writhing beneath him.
His hands were on her hips, digging and then soothing.
His mouth explored her thoroughly. Her taste was lingering on his lips, and he wanted it there for a long time.
She tasted musky, like dark honey and sex, hot and forbidden at the same time.
He knew he was being selfish. His conscience warned him that he should give her time to rest and recover.
It was her first time being with a man, and dear God! How thrilling was that? He was her first, and by God, he was going to be her only. He had already decided that no other man was ever going to touch her. He couldn't even bear to contemplate such a thing happening, not after what they had shared.
He would give her time if that was needed, but not too much time.
She was asleep, curled into him as if she belonged there. He had dragged his hands through her short cap of hair so many times, it was hopelessly tangled. She had left marks on him, and he would proudly bear the bruises from her fingers and the teeth marks on his chest and shoulders.
At some point, he had been ruthless, dragging screams and cries from her, branding her, tugging on her nipples, suckling until they were sore.
Other times he had slowed things down, laboring over her with patience and thoroughness that had left her weeping.
He had made a production out of making love to her.
For the first time in his life, he truly knew what it meant to make love to a woman.
Mind, body, and soul, it shook him to the core. He was in love with her, and there was no going back, not that he wanted to. But it bothered him that she had decided on the spur of the moment to get rid of her innocence.
But she had chosen him, hadn't she? He was the one who was lying in her bed, and he intended to be the only one.
Tipping his head down, he studied her exquisite face.
Her skin was dewy and soft from the intense passion they had shared earlier on.
Her lips were swollen and slightly parted.
He had spent time there too. She was naked.
He had pulled the quilt over them, but it had slipped down to reveal part of her breasts.
Her nipples were puckered, made so by his ravenous mouth.
With a soft laugh, he realized he was getting stirred up again.
Easing the sheet up, he covered her up to her throat.
It was best to avoid temptation, but he did not know how that was possible when she was all but sprawled on top of him.
Shaking his head, he stared up at the ceiling.
It took him several minutes to fall asleep, and even then, his dreams were filled with her.
Kara woke at noon with a desire that shot lightning bolts straight into her system.
The source of it was slowly suckling on her nipple. Heat curled and then burst into flames when he slid two fingers into her silky warmth and had her melting, before driving her up and spinning her into a volcano that had no ending. Her body finally floated down.
Before her eyes were fully open, Zane covered her body with his, driving into her with one sure, fluid movement.
"Hi," he whispered. "Sorry to wake you."
She arched and curved her arms around his neck, her expression dreamy.
"Don't be sorry. I love the wake-up call."
"I was starving." He nuzzled at her neck, the sides of her mouth, his tongue tasting the sleepiness still on her breath.
He had barely slept and had woken up wanting her with a yearning that tied him up in knots, one that had him throwing consideration to the wind and deciding to take what he wanted.
"I'm hungry for you. Last night and this morning weren't enough. I woke up hard." He increased the pace and, without giving her time to respond, had her eyes going blind.
The man was set to drive her crazy, and she loved it. She loved- Her thoughts veered away before she could finish that. She was just having fun. They were just exploring the physical side. She had spent too many years tied down to rules and regulations. Right now, it was all about the physical.
Never again would a man or anyone else take control of her life. She was going to enjoy the sex with no strings. And what a gorgeous man to enjoy it with!
Blissfully unaware of her thoughts, Zane explored her mouth, took his time, and dreamed of the future, one with her name on it. He would court her. The idea stunned him. The thought of a lifetime with one woman, with this woman, was etched into his brain.
They would go out on dates. He would have her over for dinner and sleepovers. When it was the proper time, he was going to propose.
Lifting his head, he linked his fingers through hers and pleasured himself by watching her go under for the second time.
Her eyes went limpid, her lips parted and wet from his ardent kiss.
She moaned out his name, body trembling as the release washed over her.
He went under with her, his long, lean body shuddering as he spilled himself, his own groan torn from his chest.
*****
They showered together in her pretty pink and blue bathroom with the scented soaps that looked like tulips and enough bath gels to fill a store.
He insisted on washing her back, and that soon turned into something more.
He made love to her, with her back braced against the cool tiles, water pouring over them as he slid into her slowly, his eyes holding hers, her legs wrapped around him and her back arched like a bow.
It felt wonderful. He felt wonderful, and she could not believe that she was the same person who had spent her life being cautious.
She had spent the night with a man who wasn't her husband, and it was well worth it.
She had thought to save herself for marriage, but that wasn't a factor anymore, and she certainly did not regret it.
Now they were inside her cozy kitchen with the pots of herbs on the windowsill and rain drumming against the window. And he was making her breakfast.
He had insisted.
"You cook?"
At her look of skepticism, he raised those thick brows at her. "I happen to live alone, so yes, I cook."
"I would have figured you would have a maid or two."
"I had those when I lived at the manor." He chopped onions and peppers expertly while she pleasured herself by sitting at the counter with her chin propped in her palm.
He hadn't bothered to put on his sweater but was wearing the thin undershirt that stretched across his broad shoulders and muscled back very nicely.
His hair was tangled from the shower and still damp.
She had seen the rest of the tattoos and realized that she wasn't turned off after all.
"Besides, I hate people in my space. My sister is enough." He glanced over at her, feeling a jolt at the smile playing around her sexy lips. He had already decided that after breakfast, it was back to bed. He could not get enough of her.
"She's pushy and insists on checking in every now and then."
"She loves you."
He shrugged. Turning to the stove, he dumped the ingredients on top of the eggs and put the fire to a low simmer. "I love her too."
"It must be nice," she murmured.
"What?"
"Having a sibling. I always wanted one. A sister, I think. Thanks." She accepted the coffee he poured her and took a sip. "Or a brother to look out for me."
She started slightly when he leaned in to kiss her. When he would have eased away, she curved a hand around his neck to prolong the kiss.
He wanted to suggest they skip breakfast entirely, but he had kept her up most of the night and the morning. He was getting greedy. He had to give her time to recover.
She murmured in protest when he moved away, and the sound had him smiling.
"We eat first." He turned back to the stove just in time to rescue the omelet and took the bread out of the toaster.
"What's it like?"
"What?" He glanced over his shoulder and noticed the wistful expression on her lovely face, a face that was washed clean of makeup and looked very young and decidedly vulnerable.
He felt something move inside him and recognized it for what it was: a fierce need to protect her from everything and everyone.
He had noticed it from the moment her car broke down at the bike stop, and it had grown considerably stronger.
"You probably would have hated it." He plated the eggs and put the toast to the side. Then he added a few grapes and strawberries before handing it to her. "Zoe can be a royal pain in the ass."
Her quick laughter had his body tightening.
"I'm sure she says the same thing about you."
"Not at all. I'm a stand-up big brother," he refuted. Sitting across from her, he watched as she cut into her eggs and waited for her to take a bite.
"Well?"
"Fishing for compliments, Mr. Stanhope?"
"Absolutely."
"It's wonderful." She scooped up some more. "What else can you cook?"
"I do a mean baked trout, and I'm excellent at grilling."
"Do you cook often?"
"Not if I can help it. I'm almost always at the bike stop. And on Sundays I reluctantly go over to the manor to be fed a sumptuous meal, according to my mother."
She sipped coffee and eyed him over the rim. "You're in a gang."
His brows lifted as he sipped his own coffee.
"Why do you assume that I am?"
She shrugged. "Bikers. Aren't they synonymous with gangs and all that?"