Page 55 of Bedroom Therapy

She’d been picturing him sitting on the other side of the room. Now he was right here in bed with her, and she could easily reach out and grab one of his bare feet.

Which was what he did. Sliding his hand several inches across the comforter, he took her right foot in his hand, stroking his thumb along the instep, sending little prickles of electricity up her leg.

“I like that nail polish,” he said. “It looks sexy. Did you do that for me?”

“Yes—and to distract myself while I was waiting for you to finish in here.”

She closed her eyes and pressed her palms against the comforter, focusing on the touch of his hand as he continued to stroke her foot.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I think so.”

“You are so beautiful. I love the way that robe looks on you, and I love the contrast with the pillows and the comforter.”

“Why do you want to do this?” she asked. “I mean this whole thing.”

“It’s very stimulating,” he answered immediately. “Don’t you agree?”

“You know it is. But there’s no reason you have to stay at the other end of the bed. You could come up here and lie down with me.

“I could. But then I wouldn’t get to play out my fantasy.”

“Maybe I can’t play it out.”

“Oh, I think you can.” His gaze dropped to the front of her robe, where the tight beads of her nipples pointed toward him. “I know you’re already aroused—just by what we’ve done. And we’ve barely gotten started.”

She couldn’t deny it.

“Do you think this is wicked?”

Her throat was suddenly dry, but she managed to answer, “No.”

“Good. Let’s see how far we can take this.”

His words made her pulse suddenly pound. What was he going to want from her?

All he said was, “Why don’t you open the top two buttons of that robe. Just so I can see the creamy skin below your neck.”

She could do that, she thought, as she lifted her hands from the mattress, then struggled to keep her fingers from trembling as she fumbled with the buttons.

He stared at that triangle of exposed skin. “Nice. Very nice.”

How could something this simple make her burn with heat? she wondered.

His next words came to her over the buzzing in her brain as he said, “Lift your hands for me. Let me see you cup your breasts.”

The only way she could do what he asked was to close her eyes first. Behind her closed lids, she felt as though she were in a dream world. With deliberate slowness, she moved her hands from the buttons of the robe and cupped her breasts, feeling a stab of arousal.

It helped when she heard him draw in a quick breath because she knew he was reacting to this fantasy scene as strongly as she was herself.

His voice was thick as he said, “Brush your fingers over the nipples. Stroke the edges. Do what feels good to you.”

She did it, her own touch burning her body.

“Is that good?” he asked, his voice close to her and yet far away.

“Yes. . .” she managed to say, because speech was almost beyond her.

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