Page 40 of Bedding his Innocent Mistress

He reached for her wrists and undid the cuffs once more. She pulled the negligee off instantly then looped her arms around his neck, her eyes meeting his without a hint of concern.

“I like this,” she promised, as though she understood he’d pushed a barrier he wasn’t sure she’d wanted pushed. “I had no idea this was out there. These feelings. My body. It’s like I’m alive for the first time in my life.”

And she lifted up on her elbows, her mouth seeking his, kissing away any doubts that he was dominating her own sexual needs with his own.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, inviting him in. He pushed away, standing to the side of the bed, staring down at her, and then reaching for her and lifting her over his shoulder.

She squawked noisily. “I can walk.” Then, she laughed. “Or maybe not. My legs are like jelly.”

His smile was instinctive. He carried her not because he thought he needed to, but because he wasn’t willing to relinquish any connection with her. Not even for a moment. The door that led to the deck was unlocked. He strode onto the enormous balcony.

“Someone will see us,” she whispered.

“No,” he smiled. “We are higher than anyone.”

Looking around, she could see that he was right. “Still. It’s London. Someone must be watching. Somehow.”

“Haven’t you ever wanted to just be reckless?” He asked, and before she could respond, he manoeuvred her onto his length. The last semi-cohesive thought Ivy had before sensations drowned out her mind was that she adored being a caveman’s quarry.

And he was the quintessential caveman. In this mindset, he was pure alpha male, Me Tarzan. You Jane.

He pushed her back against the wall. It was lightly textured and the sensation on her back was a new addition to her sensual thrall. But after several movements she shook her head.

“Wait. Stop.”

He did. Instantly. And somewhere in the back of her mind she couldn’t help but admire his restraint.

“This wall is like sandpaper on my back,” she husked, a smile on her lips.

He laughed, but it was a sound tortured by sensation and need. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you should be. I’m having a terrible time.” She rolled her eyes and then looked around the deck. “Can you sit on that chair? I want to be on top.”

He arched a brow, and something new clicked inside of him.

When was the last time he’d been with a woman who’d known what she wanted? Who’d wanted to be in control, to give pleasure as well as receive?

His hands held her planted on his length as he walked the short distance to the chair and she kissed him, her own need to be as connected as possible innately familiar to him because it was how he felt.

She was slight and fine, but her weight around his waist was determined and she pushed up and down, guiding her body and guiding him, too, taking him where she needed him, her head rolled back as sensual instincts took over.

And there, with the night sky wrapping around them, stars and cloud overhead, the lights of the city as the background to their lustful passion, he watched her climax and finally let himself go, driving himself into her, every single nerve ending of his arousal responding to her spasms and reflexes.

Her breath was a stain in the air. A fast, hoarse sound that became almost like music as it carried to his ears. He held her tight, her beautiful body so perfectly moulded to his, and he listened to her heart, even as it turned away from him. It beat so fast, in time with his, and yet she was holding it all to herself.

She had made that point very clear.

“Are you hungry?” Rafe asked the question with no sign that he’d been as affected by what they’d just shared as she had. He sounded…normal. Ivy blinked, her brain sluggish, her body exhausted.

She shook her head. She wasn’t hungry, she wasn’t thirsty, she was busy just existing. His lovemaking had layered a new level of exhaustion over her body, wrapping her up in foggy tiredness. The strength of emotion she’d experienced had been new and difficult and she hadn’t been prepared for it.

She’d wanted to prove him wrong.

To stand up and stride out of his apartment whenever it suited her. But her arms and legs were heavy. Her body completely numb.

She couldn’t see him, but Ivy knew he was smiling. And she could just imagine it – a know-it-all look of powerful charisma.

“I should get going,” she said, with no intention of doing any such thing.

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