Page 39 of His Forgotten Wife
Even through the indescribable haze, Dahlia felt a sinking sensation in her stomach that by allowing herself to have this intimacy with him, she’d opened a door. And she was hurtling past the last line of defense against falling irrevocably in love with him.
If she wasn’t there already.
CHAPTER NINE
Ares crawled ontothe bed on his knees to watch Dahlia in that vulnerable moment.
He found he was even hungrier for this than to bury himself inside her.
Tears had drawn tracks down her cheeks and neck, and her lips trembled uncontrollably, as if she was keeping some big storm contained inside. Incredible tenderness he had never known encompassed every inch of him. “Dahlia, open your eyes. Tell me what’s wrong.” As always, when he felt threatened, his need to fix everything around him came to the fore. “Was that too much? I did read somewhere that some women find orgasming painful, but I thought you would tell me something like that.” Maybe he should modulate his tone from scolding but he was painfully hard and seeing her like this was doing something indescribable to his insides.
“Of course you didn’t do anything wrong. How could you?” she said, opening those doe-like brown eyes. The rims were just a little bit pink, as was the tip of her nose. “It was just that good, Ares.”
He grinned, that tenderness now joined by a savage kind of satisfaction that he had pleased her. “Good. I always do like a job well done.”
She giggled, her stomach rising and falling under his palm.
He found that he really liked touching her—the slight curve of her belly, her long, sleek thighs, and the curvy parts of her like her breasts and her hips. He liked hearing her heart thump-thump under his palm, liked hearing her breath rush out of her, in different tempos depending on what she was feeling, what she was saying or what he was doing to her.
He felt close to her at that moment, or rather he felt that she was finally completely bare to him. All her armor and walls were in rubble, as she stared up at him as if he was made of the stars and the sky.
It was a feeling Ares had never known and it crept under his skin because before he could examine it, like an insidious worm tunneling deep into his insides, making him feel all warm and glowing from the inside. And in that moment, he realized he would do anything to hold on to that feeling, to have her look at him like that. As if he was her entire world.
“I would worry that your ego would get bigger about this but—” Dahlia pushed up on one elbow and kissed the corner of his mouth, and then lay back down on the bed with a sigh “—I think you deserve to develop a big ego about this. That was…amazing.” She stretched like a cat, her foot rubbing against his shin, and he decided he liked being touched in this way too. “And I thank you for all the research you’ve put into it.”
He laughed. “I’ve just had my tongue inside you and you sound way too formal about it.”
A shocked gasp escaped her puffed lips. “Jesus, Ares. You go from brooding, stubborn, have-to-have-my-world-just-the-way-I-want to this dirty-talking stud? If I faint one of these days, you’re to blame.”
He cupped her shoulders and pressed himself to her side, his need for her a simmering buzz in his veins. The sight of her dewy skin gleaming under the lights, her breath still coming in pants, everything about her fed his suddenly voracious need. A hiss lefthis lips as he rubbed his cock against her thick hip, even as pain from his injured side contrasted shockingly against the pleasure.
Her movements were hesitant as she lifted her hand and pushed a lock of his hair back. From there, her touch drifted down, tracing his clavicle. He didn’t miss the wariness in her eyes, as if he might explode if she did something wrong.
Again, that missing memory nagged at him. “Dahlia?”
Her shimmering gaze met his. “May I touch you?” she said, her throat bobbing up and down nervously. “I mean, I understand if you like doing things, but don’t want me to do things to you,” she clarified in a rush.
Excitement was an electric spark inside him. With a rough moan that he could not curb, he nudged his cock between her hip and the bed for deeper friction. “Dahlia, does that feel like I don’t want to be touched? You keep saying what an impatient man I am, but waiting for you to come to me has turned me into the most patient man in the world. So, yes, put your hands on me. Touch me however you want.”
She swallowed and nodded, still looking fairly apprehensive. He pushed his sweatpants down and kicked them off while she turned to lie on her side, facing him. His cock was screaming for her attention, but she didn’t start there. The need to command her attention there rode him hard, but pushing up on his elbow to cradle his head, he waited.
It felt like an eternity passed before her soft fingers clasped his cheeks and she pressed a multitude of kisses to his face. With each kiss on each scar, like that grief she let him see, a wealth of regrets seemed to pour out of her. If it helped her to feel better about his pain by doing this, then he would subject himself to a thousand tormenting kisses from Dahlia’s lips.
Soft, slow rumbles emerged from his chest and throat as she did a thorough job of kissing every inch of his full shoulders andchest and even his abdomen. Her fingers were featherlight and in turn, his muscles clenched in agony, needing a rougher touch.
His breath turned serrated when she pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips, taking care to not push her knee into his injured side. Something about the way she looked at him made his chest tighten. No one had ever seen past his eccentricities before. Then there was the lust shining in her eyes, which distracted him from the deeper pull of emotions at that moment. He wasn’t sure whether he was glad or not, only that he was buzzing with need. The tips of her silky hair kissed the tiny patches of his skin that her very efficient mouth might have missed.
His breath became shallow when she, with delicate efficiency, took his cock into her hand and squeezed. His arousal oozed out of the head and Ares groaned. “Move down, Dahlia. Let me feel you,” he commanded.
She played with him for a few more breathtaking moments before she scooted down. The press of her damp folds against his engorged cock, and the way she leaned back to sink deeper onto him, made his breath punch out of his chest in staccato gasps.
“Dahlia…” He gripped her hips with his fingers. Her wetness coated him, and it was the most decadent sensation he had ever known in his life. “Undo your braid. I want to see your hair,” he said, his arousal spiraling with each downward roll of her hips.
The visual of her gently heaving breasts as she did the rolling thing with her hips again was the most erotic picture he had ever seen.
Holding his gaze, Dolly undid the braid, sank her fingers into her hair and shook it loose.
“Lean down and kiss me. Rub those plump nipples against my chest. I want to know how every inch of you feels against me.”
