Page 55 of Butterflies and Hazel Eyes
It was now or never. I grasped the bottom of my nightshirt and tugged it over my head, my hair falling down my back as it landed on the bed. I registered his sharp intake of breath when my perky white globes were revealed, but he said nothing.
“I know they’re small,” I whispered, crossing my arms over my chest, but he caught them and lowered them back to my side.
“You’re perfect,” he said, his voice low and husky. “I’m sorry I can’t stop staring, but I’m savoring the moment. Once I touch you, I’ll never be able to stop.”
I took his hand and held it to my rib cage. “We don’t have to wait, Gulliver.”
His warm hand wrapped around my ribs, and his thumb stroked the side of my breast. “Yes, we do. Making love to you wasn’t on my radar, and I don’t have protection.”
“Gulliver, I’ve had an implant for years. We don’t have to worry about it. Unless there’s something you’re not telling me.”
He shook his head, but his gaze never left my chest. “I’m clean if you’re asking about diseases. I’ve only been with two women, and I’ve used protection each time.” He ran his thumb down my shoulder and across the ridge of my breast, making me suck in air.
“Stop holding back and be with me then,” I begged, pressing myself into his chest. His eyes closed, and he swallowed, his ragged breath bouncing off the walls of the room.
In a bold move, he cupped my breast, his thumb flicking lazily across my nipple. “Are you sure? I won’t be able to stop once I start.” His loud moan filled the night when I rubbed his belly just above the waistband of his boxers. “I mean, I would if you asked me to, but it’s going to be hard.”
“It’s already hard,” I teased, caressing the front of his boxers. He moaned and it filled my head and heart to overflowing.
“You’re so tiny but so perfect,” he whispered right before he ducked his head and captured my nipple between his lips. My ragged breath filled the room, and I squirmed against him, burying my hand in his curly locks.
He made love to my breasts with his lips and tongue while his fingers played with the waistband of my boy shorts, one finger sliding underneath and rubbing the tender skin on my abdomen. I shivered in anticipation and fear. The fear was there, but it wasn’t about making love to him. It was about making love to him and then losing him.
“Gulliver,” I cried, arching under his talented hands. “I need you to touch me,” I called out, desperate for him to remove the remaining barriers between us.
Before my words faded away, he shifted me to the bed and made my panties disappear. He trailed his finger down my body and through my curls, where his hand cupped my triangle with reverence. “You’re incredible, Charity. Just so perfectly you,” he whispered. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in this life. Your innocent beauty takes my breath away,” he moaned again, his gaze sweeping me up and down. It was filled with lusty desire and so damn much love I wanted to weep. When I first arrived in Plentiful, I’d wondered what it would feel like to have all the intensity in his eyes focused solely on me. Now I knew. It felt like love.
“You have too many clothes on, Mr. Winsome,” I whispered, reaching for the bottom of his shirt. He was on his hip, and I struggled to get him undressed. It only took one glance, and I noticed the desire I’d seen a moment ago in his caramel-colored eyes had been replaced with frustration and a tinge of fear. “What’s the matter?” I asked, releasing his shirt and scooting closer to him. “Tell me. I can see there’s something wrong. You can never hide anything from me, Gulliver. Your eyes give you away every time.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he closed his eyes for a moment. “I can’t use my knees. Like, I can’t hold myself up on my knees. There are a lot of things I can’t do in bed because of that, Charity.”
“Gulliver,” I whispered, caressing his face to calm him. “I understand everything you’re saying and everything you’re not saying, okay?” I asked, nodding my head until he did too. “We aren’t the same as some other couples when it comes to our bodies, and you know what?” I asked, but he shook his head rather than answer. “That’s what I love about us. We are special. We are unique. Do you trust me?”
This time his head nodded without pause. “I wouldn’t be here unless I did.”
I went up on my knees and plastered my lips to his, waiting for him to let my tongue in to dance with his. I mewled low in my throat, and he bucked against me, his head back in the game as he pushed my tongue out of the way to take control again.
“Mr. Winsome, it’s time for you to make love to me,” I said, ripping my lips from his to dart behind him and stack up a pile of pillows against the headboard. “You, there,” I said, pointing.
His brow went up to his hairline. “You were right when you said you’re bossy.”
“Do you have a problem with my bossiness?” I asked, kneeling so I was the same height as he was sitting down.
“Not even a little bit,” he said, sexy laughter filling his voice as he scooted back against the pillows.
I grasped each one of his legs with loving tenderness and settled them in the position I knew was comfortable when he was sitting down. My gaze never left his while I did it. I expected to see embarrassment or fear, but instead all I saw was love. So much love for me and for how I loved him. I stripped his shirt off, this time easily removing it from his lithe frame. I ran my hands through the soft hair on his chest, and it tickled my skin and teased my sense of touch. I leaned forward and placed kisses down his chest. His sharp intake of breath when my lips connected with his skin reminded me that I was about to make love to the man I’d just met but had been looking for since the day I was born. The thought was like a bolt of electricity to my heart, and I gasped. I wanted to hold him close to me forever.
His warm hands grasped mine, and his head dipped down to hold my gaze. “Are you okay?”
“I’m so much better than okay, Gulliver,” I whispered. “I want all of you, the good, the bad, the painful. All of it, do you understand me?” I begged, holding his cheeks in my hands and kissing his lips hungrily. He rocketed his tongue through my mouth, his moans filling my head with a level of heat that made me instantly wet. I rocked on his thigh, and when he lifted it to offer me pressure, he dragged a moan from my lips that tore mine away from his.
I scooted off his legs and hooked my thumbs in his waistband. He lifted his butt, and I lowered them slowly, never breaking eye contact with him. There we both were, naked to each other with every single one of our imperfections front and center. “You are perfect for me, Gulliver,” I whispered. My attention traveled lower, and there was no question he was ready for me. “You’re, um...” I didn’t finish the sentence because I didn’t have the words.
“I’m normal size, Charity,” Gulliver whispered, lifting my hand and settling it around him. “I know you’re a porcelain doll, and I will treat you like one. I won’t hurt you. Trust me?”
I didn’t answer him with words. Instead, I explored him, reveling in the sharp intake of breath each time I neared his tip. When he thrust against my hand, a thrill shot through me at how much I turned him on.
“I trust you,” I whispered, still holding him. I leaned forward, and his lips landed on mine—hungry, driven, and ready to show me he was worthy of my trust. We lost all semblance of time or place as we touched, tasted, kissed, and stroked each other to a frenzied pitch.
