The Look of Love
Page 28

What she was feeling was all wrapped up in the man, himself, in every kind thing he’d said and done for her since that moment by the car. Sex wasn’t just sex anymore. Instead, it was something so much bigger, something utterly interconnected to a part of her heart that had been dead for so long she’d thought it would stay forever buried.
It was that realization that had her coming down from the peak fast. Way too fast.
She would have tried to hide her reaction from Chase if she could have, but he was too good at reading her.
And she wasn’t nearly in the frame of mind to play games.
“Talk to me,” he said.
In an instant, he was beside her on the bed, cradling her in his arms. She could feel his erection—still trapped in his jeans, huge and throbbing against her hips—but he wasn’t in any hurry to finish what they’d started.
Didn’t he realize that only made things worse? That he only scared her more when he acted so sweet, when he put her first? Because he made her want things, long for things she’d tried to convince herself she didn’t need anymore.
She shook her head, made herself say, “Just take me.”
But instead of doing what any other guy would have done, he simply raised an eyebrow at her language. And looked even more concerned.
“I will,” he promised, “but first I want you to talk to me.”
She swallowed. “You already know how much I want you.” She gestured to her body. “You would have known that if I hadn’t said a single word.”
He kissed her then, once on the lips, before saying, “Tell me how you’re feeling, lovely girl.”
The endearment had her tensed muscles turning to mush again. “Stop doing that.”
He frowned. “What am I doing? Did I hurt you?”
“No.” Frustration with herself—and with him for being way too awesome—made the word staccato and sharp. “You know you didn’t hurt me.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“You’re too great!”
The three words came out at almost a wail and he shifted her in his arms, as if he might understand what she was getting at if they only changed position. A moment later, she found herself flat on her back with Chase levered over her, his weight trapping her against the bed.
“You don’t like great?” He was running one hand down her arm as he asked the question.
“I do, but—”
Wrapping his fingers around her wrist, he gently lifted her arm above her head and leaned in to run kisses and love bites up the sensitive skin on the undersides of her arms. “But what?”
“It’s just that—” Her words fell away as he repeated the gentle caress and kisses with her other arm, lifting it above her head, too.
“Right there,” he murmured, looking down at the way her ribs were arching slightly, lifting her br**sts up to his chest. “So pretty.” He circled the tip of one br**sts one and it begged for more, tightening beneath the sweet caress of his fingertip.
Oh God, it was hard to form rational thought when he was doing that, but she had to at least try.
“This is supposed to be sex.” His eyes met hers and she clarified, “Just sex.”
She watched him go still above her and when his hand tightened on her wrist, for the first time since she’d been in his bed, she couldn’t stop herself from thinking how big, how powerful he was. If he wanted to hurt her, it wouldn’t matter if she yelled “bananas” as loud as she could.
“I won’t do that again,” he said, and before she even realized what had happened, he let go of her wrists and had them switch places so that he was lying on his back and she was sitting up, naked and straddling him.
“No fear, Chloe.” He brought her hands to his lips and kissed them. “I can’t stand to see that frightened look in your eyes when we’re together. I won’t hold you down again like that. I promised you I’d never hurt you and I meant it. “
“I know.” The two whispered words floated between them as they stared at each other like that for a long moment.
Emotion pulsed and flowed, rose without ebbing. This was what she was really afraid of, she knew.
Not that Chase would physically overpower her.
But that the strength of his emotions might actually slip in beneath her armor.
At yet, at the same time that her heart was grappling with fear and love and pain and trust, her body was crying out for more.
For Chase.
The way she was sitting on his hips perfectly positioned her over his erection. Even the slightest movement, as small as a breath, had the zipper of his jeans rubbing against her groin. Looking down at Chase, his beautiful, bare chest laid out beneath her for the taking, pure female instinct sent her hands off to explore his muscles, to play in the light dusting of hair on his chest and below his belly button.
“You should be a model.”
She watched him try to grin, but it never quite replaced the need on his face.
“I’m glad you like what you see.”
It sounded like he was gritting out each word and she knew why. His erection had, shockingly, grown even bigger beneath her.
“I want to see more,” she said softly.
Sliding a little lower down his body, she was barely aware of her br**sts swinging as she concentrated on undoing the zipper of his jeans. “It’s your turn,” she told him.
He tried to distract her by cupping her br**sts and tasting both at once. She moaned and nearly gave in to him, to the delicious persuasion of his lips and tongue and teeth. But, God, she wanted him naked, too, wanted to see all of him just as badly as he’d seemed to want to see her bared and spread before him.
With increased focus, she slid his zipper down the rest of the way, and even behind the fabric of his boxers, his erection jumped toward her. She tried to take his jeans off, but her hands were suddenly shaking.
“I’m right there with you, lovely girl,” he said in a husky voice before he took matters into his own hands and took care of his clothes.
Chloe knew better than to stare. She wasn’t a virgin. But no naked male she’d ever seen in person—or in a photo—had looked like Chase.
And then he was kissing her, both of their naked bodies pressed against each other and just that skin-to-skin contact, the feel of him, hot and hard, the hair on his legs scratching against her, the muscles of his stomach and chest and arms pressing into her, were the most erotic thing she’d ever experienced. Even more than her orgasms.