Page 34 of The Money Man
“I was wishing you were wearing a neckcloth.” Since he wasn’t wearing any tie at all, she flicked open the first fastened button to reveal the tempting indent at the base of his neck.
“A what?”
“A neckcloth, like a Regency duke. So I could take my time unwrapping you.” Because she was sure this would happen only once.
He made a low sound in the back of his throat that was something between a moan and a growl. “There’s always my belt.”
“I’ll get to that.”
She had planned to go slowly—to make the experience last longer—but she couldn’t stop herself once she started, unfastening button after button until she reached his waist and yanked the shirttails out of his trousers. She’d known he would be beautiful but the thoroughly male reality of his chest made her stare for a long moment. The surface rose and fell with his slightly ragged breathing.
For a moment, a sense of inadequacy held her immobile, but his beauty overcame her insecurity. She raised her hands, spread her palms, and laid them flat against the slight furring of hair over his pecs. His hair felt soft and springy, his skin warm and satiny, the muscles underneath like water-polished stone, curved and smooth under her hands. The tiny peaks of his nipples went hard at her touch and he blew out an audible breath as she traced a fingertip around them. She nuzzled into the hollow at his throat, inhaling his clean, male scent with the hint of some woodsy soap. With a brazenness that shocked her, she licked him and savored the taste of salt.
“You have two more minutes before I turn the tables,” he said, his voice tight with the effort of control.
“In that case ...” She wasn’t going to pass up such an opportunity. She shoved his shirt off his magnificent shoulders before she walked behind him and slid the cotton down his arms to drop on the floor. The indent of his spine and the flex of his deltoids begged her fingers to explore them. As she followed his backbone downward, she giggled. “You have dimples.” She outlined them with her fingers.
“You find back dimples amusing?”
“They’re ... unexpected.” She skimmed her palms down over his tight buttocks, feeling them clench under the fine wool.
“You have ten seconds left,” he said with a rasp.
“That wasn’t two minutes.” She ran her hands back up along his rib cage and around his trim waist so she could lay her body full length against his back, her cheek pressed to the delicious expanse of his skin.
“You’ve heard of the theory of relativity. Time speeds up when a beautiful woman is touching you without you being able to touch her.”
“But I haven’t gotten to your belt.” Since her exploration was about to end anyway, she did the most provocative thing she could think of. She let her fingers dance along the ripples of his abdomen before she palmed the erection that pushed against his trousers.
His whole body went tense and a strangled sound came from his throat. Enjoying her power, she slid her hands down the fabric-covered length of him and back up again. A shudder ran through him so she repeated the stroke.
And found herself embracing a whirling dervish when he spun around. “My turn,” he said, the buttons of her blouse seeming to fall open magically under his touch. He peeled the silk away and cupped her breasts, his thumbs teasing along the lacy edge of her translucent, rose-colored bra. “So beautiful.” He moved his touch to her already taut nipples. A streak of sensual lightning blazed from her breasts to her belly. “So perfect,” he murmured before lifting his eyes to hers with a feral smile. “The bra is a delicious surprise, hiding beneath that plain white blouse.”
So his ex-fiancée hadn’t worn sexy lingerie? Or else she had been so sexy that he expected it from her. Which might imply that he hadn’t thought Alice looked sexy.
Her muddled attack of insecurity vaporized when he bent to suck at one nipple through the gossamer fabric, the wet pull of his mouth dragging a long moan from her that ended with a, “Yesssssssss, more!”
Right now Derek found her plenty sexy.
Shifting to the other breast with his mouth, he massaged the damp, peaked nipple with his palm, the dual sensations setting loose a torrent of pure yearning. She sank her fingers into the glorious silk of his hair to hold his head there. Waves of delight washed over and through her as his mouth tugged at her breast.
She whimpered an objection when he pulled away, but it was just to unhook and whip away her bra before he returned. His mouth on her bared skin made her arch back to push her breasts farther into the friction of his lips and tongue. When her hips began to rock in time with his suction, he lifted his head. “There’s something else I’ve imagined.” His eyes flared with anticipation.
He turned her toward the mirror again. The eroticism of their two bare torsos on display made her gasp.
She expected him to touch her skin but instead he lifted his hands to her head. “Your hair is glorious,” he said as he twined his fingers into it. “But now I want to see it over your breasts.”
He gathered her hair from behind her back and draped it over her shoulders, arranging it so that her nipples, still glistening with the moisture from his mouth, showed through the long waves. When he picked up a strand and flicked the end over the sensitive, damp skin, she jerked in surprise at how such a soft touch could jolt electric arousal through her body. He wrapped an arm around her waist to hold her against his erection and flicked at the other nipple. When she’d fantasized about her dukes playing with her hair, they’d never done this, but they clearly lacked Derek’s creativity.
“I need to see all of you,” he said, dropping her hair and skimming down to the button of her jeans. He tugged it out and ran the zipper down before slipping his hands inside the loosened waistband and pushing her jeans and panties down over her hips to her ankles, baring her abruptly in the mirror. The sight of her naked body on display shocked her. She almost brought her hands around to cover herself but Derek was breathing words of adoration and lust into her ear, dissolving her shyness with molten sexuality.
His hand was splayed over her belly, his fingers just above the place she yearned for him to touch. Yet the imprint of his palm seemed to sink into her, stoking the fire beneath it.
“Please ... ,” she murmured.
“Yes.” But he didn’t move his hand lower. He bent and scooped her up in his arms, the pressure of skin to skin delicious. He walked to her bed and lowered her onto the comforter before he swiftly eased off her shoes and her jeans.
He reached into his pocket and brought out a condom, which he dropped on the bedside table. The sight of that made her internal muscles ripple with anticipation.
