Page 65 of One Night Only
Clamping down on my bottom lip in an attempt to stifle my own sounds, I nod.
“But we gotta be quiet,” he whispers, pressing a chaste kiss to my lips. “You think you can be quiet, baby?”
“I can try,” I say after a moment.
“’Atta girl,” Dallas chuckles, and his hands move down my sides, finding the hem of my dress again. He inches it up my thighs, pausing to gauge me. “On or off?”
I consider his question a moment.
“I’m going to need to give you a couple of my jerseys to keep here,” he whispers, pressing another kiss to my lips, his fingers urging my dress slightly higher.
I swallow hard. “Off…”
Dallas’s eyes go wide when he realizes what I just said. “Are you sure?”
I nod.
“Do you want to put on a t-shirt?”
“Can I just leave my bra on?”
He smiles softly. “You can do whatever you want, baby.”
With another shuddered breath, I slowly lift my arms over my head, allowing Dallas to pull my sweater dress up all the way. When I’m left in nothing but my bra, I instinctively wrap my arms around myself, feeling awkward. He can’t see my breasts, but I have petechiae from radiation that has permanently marked my skin on most of my right side and up into the underarm, and the scar in my chest from my port is still puckered and gross.
“Don’t do that,” Dallas says softly, gently coaxing my arms down to my sides. His gaze darkens as it sweeps over me before meeting my eyes, his fingertips carefully touching the red pin-pricks that dot my skin. “Does it hurt?”
I shake my head.
He lifts his hand and grazes my cheek with the backs of his fingers as he whispers, “Every single thing about you is fucking perfection.”
I blush under the intensity of his gaze and his words, relaxing enough to allow the tension in my shoulders to ease. Then, looking Dallas up and down, I quirk a brow. “You’re still dressed…”
His lips twitch. “So, what are you gonna do about it then, huh?”
I release each button on his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders. Tugging up the hem of his undershirt, I’m impatient and not shy about it. Thankfully, he takes the hint and, with one hand, he reaches over his shoulder and yanks the white Henley up and over his head, tossing it off into the corner of the room.
Seeing him standing there in just his jeans, I’m forced to squeeze my thighs together because he is so hot. I lean in, pressing kisses to his chest, laying my tongue flat and licking his pebbled nipple, swirling my tongue around it before biting it softly between my teeth and trailing a line to the other one to give it the same attention.
“Fuck, baby,” he utters through gritted teeth, smoothing my hair away from my face and watching me as I continue my way south, drawing a wet trail with my tongue over the defined muscles that line his stomach, following the V that disappears into the waistband.
I smile up at him as I pop the button, slowly tugging the zipper down, and when I see he’s bare underneath, his length springing free, I almost choke on my own saliva. He’s big. I already knew that. But this is the first time I’mseeinghim, and he’s perfectly proportioned. Long and thick and silky. A bead of liquid glistens at the tip of the flared head, begging for my tongue, but I somehow manage to refrain, standing back up to my full height, looking up at him.
“You’re killing me, Goldie.” Dallas groans, tucking my hair behind my ear.
“I’m sorry.” I bite down on my bottom lip.
He lifts my chin with his finger, staring directly in my eyes. “What’d I tell you about apologizing to me?”
“I know, I just—” I’m suddenly nervous and more than a little mortified because, again, I’m a thirty-five-year-old woman. “I… I don’t know what to do next.”
He doesn’t say anything. Just continues staring into my eyeswith that soft, tender look that feels as if he can see through to my soul.
“Do you want me to show you?” he asks softly.
I nod.
A small smirk curls his lips. “Do you want me to boss you around a little?”
