Page 64 of Deliverance

I grab a towel and run it down his chest, my pulse quickening. When the want in me doesn’t wish to leave, I’m scared he’ll see it.

And he does. His hand reaches up for my face and he brushes his thumb over my cheek. “You’ve got paint all over you.”

“So do you.”

“Touché.”

I lean forward with every intention of continuing my task, but he pushes himself up until his face is level with mine, his arm snaking around my waist to draw me to him. Our chests collide and paint transfers from his skin to my dress.

The towel slips from my grip. I’m waiting for some kind of sign. A warning. But my mind is blank and free of all the past anguish. All that’s left is this incredible moment. A moment other women, and probably men too, would kill for.

Anxious, I search my brain for information most willing women my age and in my position would know, but we’ve already determined that I’m not most women. “What are you doing?” My voice is cracked and hoarse and doesn’t sound like my own anymore. My lungs are filled with the subtle blend of his scents—wood, salt, ocean, worn-out leather.

Zander’s gaze holds mine hostage. “I want to taste you.”

He’s so close, I can’t think straight. His embrace is hot and comforting and I allow him to do what he’s asking of me with a single nod.

His hand travels up the curve of my spine and cradles the back of my neck. His lips feather mine. Gently. Slowly. Reverently.

I melt like an ice cube on a hot day under the sun. A gasp leaves my mouth and meets his breath. Thousands of tiny fireworks dance in my limbs and my stomach.

Zander rests the other hand on my hip and nudges me up and forward, guiding my legs to fall on either side of his thighs. We sit like this for a few heartbeats, with me straddling him and his arms wrapped around my waist. The paint is now all over me. I can feel it cool on my chin, my knees, my elbows.

“I don’t normally do this,” I say, my throat closing.

“Do what?” Zander pulls back an inch to look at me. “Cover men in paint in the middle of the night?”

I smile and shake my head. “Asshole.”

“Only if that’s what you want me to be.”

My breasts draw tight against the solid wall of his chest. I don’t have a witty response. Instead, I bring my face back to his mouth and sample his lip, carefully, not wanting to give him the wrong impression, not wanting him to know I have very little experience.

The kiss is nothing like I thought it would be.Nothing like Rhys.It’s soft, warm, incredibly delicious, and goes on for what seems like forever.

“I’m sorry I ruined your dress,” Zander husks as his hands run down my back and to my legs. He places both palms on my thighs and tugs me against his body a little harder.

I’m too dizzy to care that my panties are showing. The ache the press of his length has aroused in me is driving me over the edge.

“It’s okay. I have another one,” I say, parting my lips obediently when his tongue brushes the seam of my mouth.Oh God, it feels too good to be true. I’m dreaming.

Zander cups my cheeks and deepens the kiss, a low growl rumbling in his chest. My skin is ablaze, my instincts shot to shit. I follow his lead blindly, with my eyes closed and my body molded to his as he grabs at my waist and spins us.

The next thing I know I’m on my back. On the floor. My legs are still draped over his thighs, my pulse racing. I reach up to push a tangled lock behind his ear to see his face better, to see his sky blue eyes, to see the tiny lines riddling his forehead, to see the smudges of violet paint right above his nose.

“It doesn’t have to be anything you don’t want it to be,” he whispers raggedly against my temple, his voice rough yet silken, just like everything else about him.

I don’t know what I want.

But I don’t say it. I can’t formulate a single thought right now with his rock-solid body on top of me. I do know I need him to keep exploring.

As if reading my mind, Zander dips his head to grab another kiss, his tongue tracing the corners of my mouth and the edges of my teeth. I shudder. There’s fire coursing through my blood. Every part of me longs for more. My eyes snap shut and my fingers get lost in the messy thickness of his hair.

Our lips forge a slow dance.

“Tell me where you want to be kissed,” he murmurs, and goosebumps break out on my arms.

You’re my wife. You do as I fucking say, and if I say you suck my dick, then you suck my dick.

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