curled my fists into his sweater. What I saw there both thrilled and terrified me—a fierce passion that would certainly consume me if I wasn’t strong enough to take him on.
“I want to see you,” he whispered, nuzzling my neck. “Let me see you, Ella.” His voice a rolling timbre, he shifted his weight to the right and lifted the edge of my buttoned-up cardigan, skating his fingers along the line of my jeans, tantalizing my bare skin.
My abdomen caved inward with his intimate touch, my breaths coming shorter, faster.
“Are you afraid of me?”
“No,” I answered with quick confidence.
“Good.” His mouth tilted up in an agonizingly sexy smile. “Will you take off your sweater for me? So I can see more of you.”
Still calm and composed, his chest rose and fell more quickly. That he asked rather than took what he wanted, as many men had tried before, surprised me. I was used to Clayton and the few guys I’d dated groping and fondling till I put a stop to their manic lust that had always turned my stomach. This was different. This man was different. The heated desire flaring between us lured me to do whatever he asked, with pleasure. But he didn’t intend to take… He had asked me to give instead.
Wrangling my wits before they splintered into a thousand pieces, I finally nodded with a definitive, “Yes.”
With a swift, fluid movement, he shifted off me a few feet away. Not what I was expecting. Still sprawled across the floor, he leaned on one elbow with casual grace. Waiting. Watching. His dragon eyes glowing by firelight.
I wanted to let him see me, all of me, not just my body. Yet, I still hesitated, my fingers trembling on the bottom button. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. Just waited with undying patience as an electric charge filled the room.
Unsure I had the nerve to do this, I forced my fingers to move and unfastened the first button. His gaze dropped, following my slow progress as I unclasped the second, the third, all the way down to the last. I stopped, unsure what to do next. I knew what he wanted and still, I needed to hear him say the words.
“Take it off. Let me see you.”
For him. Yes. In that moment, I knew I’d do anything he asked, and the thought frightened me. I’d been taught all my life that this was all men truly wanted. My mother’s words echoed. They will use your body and ruin your soul, dear Ella . Words created in fear. But I wasn’t afraid of Paxon. I was afraid of myself. Of not grabbing hold of life before it slipped away. I wanted to do this for him. I wanted to give him something I’d given no one else.
Holding his gaze, breathless, I opened my sweater and let it slip from my shoulders. Being small-breasted, I didn’t always wear a bra. Like tonight. Instead, I wore a snug, lavender-laced camisole under my sweater. Gooseflesh rose on my pale skin and my nipples tightened, pressing against the sheer fabric, responding to the kiss of open air, to his desire, and to mine.
“I want to touch you,” he said, still not moving. “Do you want me to?”
I could only nod.
“Say you want me to.”
“Yes,” I said, licking my dry lips again. “I want you to.”
He slowly pushed onto all fours, shoulders flexing, wings flaring wide. “Close your eyes, angel.” A deep, guttural command.
I squeezed my eyes shut. Sensing his body heat enveloping my space, I sucked in a breath, anticipating his touch.
“So beautiful.” He swept a kiss on my bare shoulder, then grazed his lips up the slope of my neck. A large hand cupped my nape as he eased me down onto my back. “So sweet.” His mouth found mine, brushing with infinite tenderness. Too soft, too gentle. I arched upward, pressing my mouth firmer against his. He inched away.
“Paxon.” I didn’t even recognize my voice, so desperate and needy, even angry. Opening my eyes, I found the site of him hovering over me more intoxicating than anything I’d ever drunk or tasted. “I want, I want—” For
“I want to see you,” he whispered, nuzzling my neck. “Let me see you, Ella.” His voice a rolling timbre, he shifted his weight to the right and lifted the edge of my buttoned-up cardigan, skating his fingers along the line of my jeans, tantalizing my bare skin.
My abdomen caved inward with his intimate touch, my breaths coming shorter, faster.
“Are you afraid of me?”
“No,” I answered with quick confidence.
“Good.” His mouth tilted up in an agonizingly sexy smile. “Will you take off your sweater for me? So I can see more of you.”
Still calm and composed, his chest rose and fell more quickly. That he asked rather than took what he wanted, as many men had tried before, surprised me. I was used to Clayton and the few guys I’d dated groping and fondling till I put a stop to their manic lust that had always turned my stomach. This was different. This man was different. The heated desire flaring between us lured me to do whatever he asked, with pleasure. But he didn’t intend to take… He had asked me to give instead.
Wrangling my wits before they splintered into a thousand pieces, I finally nodded with a definitive, “Yes.”
With a swift, fluid movement, he shifted off me a few feet away. Not what I was expecting. Still sprawled across the floor, he leaned on one elbow with casual grace. Waiting. Watching. His dragon eyes glowing by firelight.
I wanted to let him see me, all of me, not just my body. Yet, I still hesitated, my fingers trembling on the bottom button. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. Just waited with undying patience as an electric charge filled the room.
Unsure I had the nerve to do this, I forced my fingers to move and unfastened the first button. His gaze dropped, following my slow progress as I unclasped the second, the third, all the way down to the last. I stopped, unsure what to do next. I knew what he wanted and still, I needed to hear him say the words.
“Take it off. Let me see you.”
For him. Yes. In that moment, I knew I’d do anything he asked, and the thought frightened me. I’d been taught all my life that this was all men truly wanted. My mother’s words echoed. They will use your body and ruin your soul, dear Ella . Words created in fear. But I wasn’t afraid of Paxon. I was afraid of myself. Of not grabbing hold of life before it slipped away. I wanted to do this for him. I wanted to give him something I’d given no one else.
Holding his gaze, breathless, I opened my sweater and let it slip from my shoulders. Being small-breasted, I didn’t always wear a bra. Like tonight. Instead, I wore a snug, lavender-laced camisole under my sweater. Gooseflesh rose on my pale skin and my nipples tightened, pressing against the sheer fabric, responding to the kiss of open air, to his desire, and to mine.
“I want to touch you,” he said, still not moving. “Do you want me to?”
I could only nod.
“Say you want me to.”
“Yes,” I said, licking my dry lips again. “I want you to.”
He slowly pushed onto all fours, shoulders flexing, wings flaring wide. “Close your eyes, angel.” A deep, guttural command.
I squeezed my eyes shut. Sensing his body heat enveloping my space, I sucked in a breath, anticipating his touch.
“So beautiful.” He swept a kiss on my bare shoulder, then grazed his lips up the slope of my neck. A large hand cupped my nape as he eased me down onto my back. “So sweet.” His mouth found mine, brushing with infinite tenderness. Too soft, too gentle. I arched upward, pressing my mouth firmer against his. He inched away.
“Paxon.” I didn’t even recognize my voice, so desperate and needy, even angry. Opening my eyes, I found the site of him hovering over me more intoxicating than anything I’d ever drunk or tasted. “I want, I want—” For
Similar Books
