He nodded, attention still pinned to some spot behind her. “A little, yes.”
“I promise I’ll say, if things go in a direction I’m not comfortable with.”
That seemed to ease his worries. He met her eyes and took her hand, stroking the backs
of her fingers. He accepted the invitation as she cocked her head, kissing her sweetly.
Briefly.
Squeezing his hand, she pulled away, gaze jumping between those blue eyes. She smiled.
“Let’s go to your room.”
Chapter Seven
Rob stood and helped Merry up, never dropping her hand as he led her through the den
and into his room. As they crossed the threshold and out of reach of the firelight,
her desires grew darker. She wanted to keep holding on to him, and let him lead her
into these shadows. Prove himself a master at this, as well—acts as primal and instinctual
as survival.
An oil lamp sat on a shelf at the head of the bed, and he lit it with a match, casting
the room in its golden glow. Merry’s body caught fire as their eyes met.
Reconstructing the scene from the kitchen floor, they sat face to face on the mattress,
her spread legs bent atop his. They held hands, stealing glances at each other. It’d
only take the simplest motion for him to rock her onto her back and push his hips
brazenly to hers, but she knew he wouldn’t. Whether it was nerves or deference, he’d
never make the first move. Fine by Merry.
She stroked his hard arms and shoulders, curiosity drawn upward to that fascinating
face, full of secrets. She ran her fingertips down the bridge of his nose, traced
the lines bracketing his mouth with her thumbs. She brushed her lower lip along his.
“You’re very handsome,” she told him, grazing her short nails over his scruff. The
words earned her another of those lovely, rare smiles. “And you’ve got very good teeth,”
she added when they made an appearance. “They’re nicer than mine, and I’m from California—land
of the straight white teeth. Being a hermit must come with surprisingly good dental
benefits.”
“I had them done when I was in my twenties.” He grinned cheesily, showing off both
rows.
“Well, you got your money’s worth.” She ran her nail across them, and Rob caught her
finger playfully between his lips.
Yes,
she beamed.
Stay like this—silly and fond.
And to herself,
For the love of fuck, don’t do anything to send this man scuttling back inside his
shell.
He let her finger go, gaze darting. His expression grew sultry, hazy and hot with
thoughts Merry could only guess at. The yellow cast of the lantern light stained his
irises the stormy green-blue of the San Francisco Bay in winter.
I could drown in you. Happily.
She cocked her head, and he took the hint. His kiss was chaste for only a moment,
then his lips parted, inviting hers to do the same.
Anything. Anything you ask.
She welcomed the slick heat of his tongue, reveled in the brush of his wild stubble
on her chin as he angled his face. Then, wonder of wonders, his warm palm was at the
base of her head, cradling, fingertips restless on her scalp. A chill trickled from
the spot, down her nape and spine, fire chasing in its wake.
His breath drew short, flaring in hot bursts. An eagerness burned in him now, as exciting
as the caress of his tongue or the weight of his hand on her waist. She’d found what
she wanted—the male hungers hidden beneath his facade of self-containment.
Are you hard?
she longed to ask. Or to discover for herself, with nothing more than a bold stroke
of her palm.
Do you resent the company of your own fist, after all this time?
She could acquaint him with other sensations. That smooth, female hand he’d praised.
Her mouth, warm and wet and welcoming. Other sacred places Rob hadn’t been invited
inside for far too long. She’d never experienced this wanton pride in her femininity
before. She’d been too unsure. Now she wanted to rouse a thousand reactions from this
man with her body—make him moan, plead, whimper, bargain, ravage. Desire. Devour.
His eyes and hands and mouth made her feel all those things she’d yearned to—powerful,
confident, magnetic.
This man wants me.
She could feel it, tangible as his touch or smell.
Her hands found his shoulders, his arms, his collarbone, and then his chest.
“Here,” she whispered, urging him to join her, lying on their sides, facing. She sandwiched
his knee between hers, touching his throat and chest. Memorizing him.
His build was spare, all muscle and tendon, nothing to obscure the beautiful machine
that was the male form. As her hands admired, she envied that physicality. In return
he touched only her neck and jaw, the contact as gentle as it was eager.
Her hand slid to his ribs, poised to roam lower. But he caught her wrist, holding
her palm still. Did he know where she’d been heading? Was he stopping her? It had
been ages, for him. Maybe he simply wanted to savor every scrap of anticipation.
Or maybe he was one stroke from coming, unwilling to lose himself.
Yes, let it be that.
Let her have such power—the power to render a man as self-possessed as Rob completely
helpless. She curled her fingers against his side, nails scraping through cotton,
and was rewarded with his sharp, sucked breath, chased by the faintest moan.
Christ, she wanted to touch him. She wanted to feel him, hard, against her palm, with
a ferocity she hadn’t felt since . . . Well, since before she’d ever actually gotten
her hands on a guy’s dick. With the burning curiosity of her teenage self, that doughy,
shy girl still years from discovering how a man’s excitement felt—and all too suspecting
of that frustrating fact. She wanted Rob that way. With the fierce, angry hunger of
a starved animal, she wanted to know his body.
When his grip loosened, she made her move. Her palm drank in his hard stomach, skirted
the cool metal of his belt buckle. Her fingertips felt the soft, worn denim of his
fly, then—
He caught her wrist again, a rough gesture that eased as he coaxed her hand back north.
“No,” he whispered.
“No?”
“I don’t want . . .”
You don’t want what? A woman to touch you—after how long?
“You should feel safe,” he mumbled, lips at her temple. “After the way you came here.”
“I do feel safe. Don’t worry about that. I want to . . . you know. Do things. With
you.”
“I want that, too. But if this is happening, let it be about you, tonight. Please.”
There was something more to this deference, she could feel it. But as long as he seemed
eager to be with her, kissing and touching, she’d roll with it. Rob wasn’t any typical
man, and he was right. The way she’d arrived here, in this place, at this moment,
with him on this bed . . . She could respect his anxiety. And she could accept whatever
he wished to offer, gladly.
She’d just have to resign herself to the unsolved mystery that was his cock, and take
pleasure from this antsy need, instead of rushing to satisfy it. Goddamn, though—Merry
had never been great at delaying gratification.
He kissed her, the contact starting deep, dark, sexual, then growing light and playful,
until he was simply rubbing the tip of his nose to hers.
“I . . .” He closed his mouth at the thought.
“Yeah?”
His fingers moved along her arm, gliding over the smooth nylon of her shirt. Her skin
tingled in their wake. “If you want to . . .” Again, he trailed off.
“Want what?”
He smiled, eyes shutting with a silent laugh. “That’s exactly it. What do you want?
I want to give you whatever it is you’re after, but I’m not sure what that is.”
“I won’t know ’til we get there. But take liberties. Please. I’ll tell you the second
you cross a line.” She’d
beg
him to cross a line, frankly.
“Right.”
“I just . . . I like you, Rob. And being with you, this way. Let’s just mess around
and kiss and see what happens. But you don’t need to be gentle with me.”
He edged closer, and where their knees had hugged, now it was their thighs.
Merry’s top didn’t offer much in the way of skin, but his palms held her neck and
cheek, mouth hungry as he kissed her.
She recorded the flex of his arm, then stroked his chest and his hard belly, then
dawdled at his hip. She wished he’d grab her wrist, force her hand between his legs
so she could feel how excited he might be. His own hand slid from her throat and past
her collarbone to cup her breast and suck the air from her lungs. She felt his heat
through her top layers, but ached for so much more.
She’d have to steal the reins. Rob wasn’t going to be the one to take them to the
next level. He was cautious first, horny second.
She fumbled with her zipper and stripped her top away. Underneath she wore a thin
silk base layer and her bra, and the warmth of Rob’s palm felt far hotter, far closer.
They kissed, deeply—sexual strokes punctuated by the touch of their noses, the soft
rasp of Rob’s beard, the odd, shallow breath and faint groan. He smelled impossibly
good, like leaves and sweat and frost. Like
man
. Merry wriggled out of her socks, and he took that hint as well, their bare feet
brushing. Hers were cold, his warm, but he didn’t shy from the contact. Quite the
opposite. His feet fairly flirted with hers, and so starved was she for skin-on-skin
with this man, it felt downright erotic. She wished he’d roll her onto her back, urge
her thighs wide, stroke her excitement with his. She wanted his control, and his complete
loss of it. Everything. All at once.
The kissing grew needy, hands antsy, and they wriggled closer. Finally she felt him.
Stiff. Unmistakable, even through two pairs of pants. Hard behind worn denim, pressed
to her upper thigh.
Let it be about you,
he’d said. Well, she knew what she wanted.
She slipped a bold hand between them and cupped his erection.
“Oh.”
The most perfect sound she’d ever inspired. She smiled, kissing his neck, running
her palm along his length. He covered her hand, and for once he didn’t move it way.
He merely followed the motions as she touched him, neither forcing nor obstructing.
She hadn’t even bothered to hope he’d be big, but she relished the discovery, letting
him feel the way she measured and approved. He gasped, fidgeted, held her tightly
and buried his lips in the hair behind her ear, exhalations heating her scalp.
At long last, he tugged at her wrist, leading it to his hip. He was panting. No surprise,
if his dry spell was as long as she suspected.
This was new for Merry, too. Before tonight, sex had always been something she’d let
happen to her. Always a passive vessel, too self-conscious to claim ownership or make
many demands.
Fuck
that
. She’d worked hard for her new body, too hard to waste this chance to exploit it.
Plus she’d
campaigned
for this moment—opened this guarded man up, baby step after baby step, and she’d
revel in every second of the connection they uncovered.
She peeled off her base layer. Rob freed her legs, watching with wide eyes as she
unzipped her pants and pushed them down, kicked them away. Words that had been burned
onto her internal script flashed predictably—
stretch marks, cellulite. Slack, jiggly, flabby.
She told the words to fuck off, concentrating instead on Rob’s curious, excited expression.
And magically, they did fuck off, forgotten. He took her in. Her practical cotton
briefs and hiking bra weren’t exactly seductive, but then again . . .
“How long has it been?” she asked. “Since you’ve been with a woman. Kissed or had
sex or . . . ?”
He swallowed, gaze jerking between her face and chest and hips and back again. “Over
three years.”
Three years.
“What have you missed most?”
His darting eyes slowed, making a more thoughtful inventory. “How soft a woman feels,”
he murmured. “How soft
you
feel. And warm. And how good you smell, and how smooth your hands are.”
She heard awe in his voice, perhaps gratitude, and felt it herself—a deep and empowering
appreciation for this body and everything it could do and feel.
She stroked those smooth hands down his neck and bare arms. He let her push his tee
shirt up, then pulled it off for her, casting it to the floor. She ran her palms over
his chest, with its smattering of soft, dark hair.
“You feel good, too. Strong.” She squeezed his shoulder.
“I think you’re beautiful.”
She bit her lip. “Do you?”
He nodded, eyes full of the fiercest sincerity. “All of you.”
Am I not just a disembodied pretty face anymore?
As they kissed, she brought her leg up, inviting Rob to drive his clothed thigh more
boldly between her bare ones. Welcoming that proof again—his hard cock heating her
mound even through these hateful layers. She found his belt and gripped the leather,
tugged him closer. It earned her a groan, a sound nearly like pain that vibrated against
her lips.
He pulled away, stealing back his warm mouth and stiff cock, breathing hard. His words
were so soft, she could barely make them out. “I want to please you.”
“You can touch me if you want. You know . . .” She nodded between them.
She shivered at the roughness of his fingertips and they skirted her side, tickled
her belly. When his touch reached her hip, she let her thighs part, inviting him to
a place he hadn’t visited in three years.
He put his mouth to her throat as his fingers grazed her clitoris and lips through
her panties. Sensation bloomed wide, coiled tight, and she moaned. His kisses were
distracted, interrupted by heavy sighs and labored breaths.
“Can I take these off?” he murmured, running his thumb under her waistband.
“Yes. Please.”
He moved to his knees and Merry turned onto her back, barely breathing as he eased
her panties over her hips, down her legs. Off, all the way off.
He lay alongside her, propping himself on an elbow, the other hand grazing her ribs,
belly, hip, and finally her mound. The heat of his palm shocked her. She let her thighs
part, welcoming him.
Their eyes met for just a moment, then Rob’s gaze fled, attention on his hand. When
his fingers touched her clit, she bucked and he pulled away, scanning her face.
“It’s fine,” she said, smiling. “I’m just overexcited.”
She twitched only a little the next time her touched her. He tested her with the faintest
friction, her nerves soon melting into pure pleasure. He kept the caresses light,
slowly easing the edge of his finger deeper along her seam—deeper, deeper, until her
wetness greeted him. The discovery echoed through his body, a tensing tide of excitement
that spurred his touch alongside Merry’s pulse.