Page 89 of The Fixer

She lowered her head, her eyes glittering slits as she gazed at him. “God, yes,” she hissed.

He bent back to her chest, and she wrapped her hands around his head, slim fingers tunneling through his hair, drawing him closer. Suddenly, she juddered backward. The tank was between his teeth when she jerked, and it made a tearing sound. He’d probably ruined it. He couldn’t muster any regret.

“I need to tell you something.” Her words came out in a breathy quaver.

He looked up at her beautiful, flushed face. His hands reached up, cupping her breasts, thumbs strumming her pearled peaks through the wet fabric. Hehadto touch. “Tell me.”

“I-I don’t … This feels wonderful, but I don’t ever have … Orgasms don’t happen for me. I just want you to know so you’re not disappointed when I don’t get there.”

She couldn’t have said anything that would have spurred him on more. Though she didn’t realize it, she had just thrown down a gauntlet he had no choice but to pick up. She’d waved the red cape at the snorting bull inside him, and he was kicking up the dirt, ready to charge.

Telling himself not to spook her with his current brand of crazy, he let a lazy smile bloom on his face. “You don’t mind if I try to get you there, though, do you?”

Her eyes were all dark, liquid desire. She shook her head in herky-jerky fashion.

“Good. I do love a challenge.” His fingers were already hauling her shorts over her hips, down her smooth, olive-toned legs. He would have preferred removing one layer at a time and enjoying the visual overload, but his patience was stretched as tight as his zipper, so he ridded her of her bottoms in one go. There would be plenty of time for panty-gazing later.

She quivered as she stood before him, bare except for the tiny tank top that showed more than it hid. Her arms fell to her sides and dangled awkwardly, as if she didn’t know where they should go or what to do with them. She made a move to cross them over her chest, but he pried them apart and placed her hands on his shoulders, holding them there, covering them with his own.

“Let me look at you.” Sliding his hands to her hips, he stroked the silky skin above her hip bones with his thumbs while he roamed his gaze over her. As she watched him, her small, strong fingers dug into his shoulders through the layers of fabric. He took her in, worshipping her with his eyes for long moments, letting the heat between them bubble and steam. She had put on weight in the time she’d been here, he was sure of it, and he appreciated every inch of her.

In the background, the refrigerator hummed, and a soft breeze ruffled the gauzy bedroom curtains, bringing with it the sweet scent of mock orange.

He lifted his chin, pointing it at her top. “Now show meallof you.”

She hesitated for a heartbeat, two, her eyes searching his for what, he wasn’t sure. And then it hit him: this wasn’t about modesty. It was about control. She was weighing how much she was willing to hand over. This woman did not forfeit power easily, if ever. But if it was orgasms she wanted him to serve up, she would have to let go at some point.

He would never make her go anywhere she didn’t want to go. Coax her? Yes. Urge? Oh yeah. Push the limits? Absolutely. But right now he also didn’t want to give her too much time to think, to wrestle the upper hand he held by one slim thread—because he was about to seize all of it.

They played another marathon game of chicken, staring one another down. He didn’t blink, didn’t flinch, keeping his eyes fastened on hers so they didn’t stray to the revealing tank or all that glorious bare skin below it. Was this thing going to happen between them, or was she about to send him home with an ache in his pants?

Her lids lowered. “I’m curious about one thing,” she murmured.

He tipped his head in question.

“Was that a request or a demand?”

“Let’s call it a soft demand. I’m not asking for permission this time.” He cocked an eyebrow when she didn’t move. “I’d be happy to take it off for you, but it might not stay in one piece.”

One corner of her mouth lifted. “You’re good at this.”

“Glad you think so because I am way out of practice.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe it, princess. It’s true.”

Sliding her hands from his shoulders, she grasped the tank’s hem and pulled it up an inch before stopping. “When do you takeyourclothes off?”

“They’re definitely coming off, but not until I’m ready.” He was so damn ready right now—and not only because his skin was overheating in his hoodie. He relished this game far too much to give in to her or to his craving just yet.

Rising to his feet, he placed his palms under her hands, nudging, lifting, encouraging her to remove the last scrap of clothing hiding her body from him. When at last she shimmied out of it and dropped it to the floor, the sight sucked the air from his lungs.

“You are perfect,” he whispered in awe. He skimmed his palms over her, following the path his eyes had taken moments before. Her lids fluttered, closing and opening and closing again, while breathy mewls fell from her parted lips. A shiver ran through her every time he happened on a particularly sensitive spot, like her ribs just below her breasts, the hollow at the base of her neck, or the flare of her waist at the small of her back. Before dawn lit the sky, he planned to taste every square inch of skin in those spots.

Threading his fingers through the hair at the back of her head, he bent to meet her mouth as he drew it to his. His other hand trailed to her back, over a rounded globe. He filled his palm and drew her in tight, digging his fingertips into her flesh as he kissed her. His tongue stroked hers, and hers responded boldly with explorations of its own that sent chills skittering up and down his spine. He was setting the rhythm, taking it slow, savoring the taste and feel of her soft, moist mouth. Earlier, he’d been so utterly out of his mind he’d missed that she tasted like strawberries and cream and smelled like caramelized sugar. He wanted her to spread it all over his body.

His mouth drifted to her throat, where he licked her collarbones and explored the soft skin at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Fingers tunneling into his hair, she dropped her head back, giving him free access. Her body slithered against him, bare skin against his clothing while his hands wandered all over her. Everywhere he touched, she was warm, lush velvet.

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