Page 43 of Color of Love

Chapter 13

She swallowed thickly at his words; her body nearly went up in flames. How did he manage to do this to her? She slowly turned and faced him. His eyes glittered with stark desire, so open and raw. He held out a large hand to her, palm up and she raised her gaze to him, his eyebrow arched in challenge. She steeled herself and slid her palm into his, the hard calluses of his hand abrading her skin in the most magnificent way, tingles branching out from the point of contact. He stepped to the side, letting her take the lead, and with a deep breath, she led him out of the kitchen and upstairs.

Each stomp of his feet on her wooden stairs matched the pounding of her heart. Her palms started sweating, her stomach doing acrobatics like it was going for gold at the Olympics. Why hadn’t she put something nicer on? She honestly hadn’t expected him to show up tonight despite what he said. She should have known that he never threatened, only promised.

She led him into her bedroom, cringing internally at the floral patterns that lined the walls and furnishings. It was not a sexy bedroom, it was a flowery, feminine one. As she glanced at the perfectly made bed, her mouth ran dry. She turned to face him, unsure what to do next. He was the first man to ever be in her room, her first lover.

“Relax,” he murmured soothingly. He ran his hands up and down her arms. “If at any point you want to stop, we stop, no matter what. You got it?”

She looked up into his eyes. Eyes she once thought so cold and unforgiving now burned, their churning silver color captivating her. She nodded in acceptance.

“Good. Now, is this okay?” he asked, his voice low as he pulled her against him and wrapped his arms around her. Her breasts pressed up against his chest, his large body dwarfing her and she melted against him, feeling safe, protected. She peered up at him through her lashes, her breathing deepening.

“Yes,” she whispered. He nodded signaling he heard her. He splayed one hand across her lower back and the other cupped her jaw, his thumb stroking over her cheek.

“Is this okay?” he asked, dipping his head towards her until they were a breath apart. Her eyelids fluttered closed in anticipation, but his kiss never came. She opened her eyes and realized he was waiting for her consent. His sweetness was her undoing.

“Yes,” she gasped. He slanted his mouth over hers, kissing her slowly, taking his time to worship her mouth. He kissed her for the longest time, as though he had all the time in the world. She was addicted to his taste and the drugging way his mouth stroked over hers. When he slid his tongue against hers, she moaned and fisted her hands in his shirt. She was desperate to feel his bare chest come up against hers and pressed her body into him in invitation. She felt him tense under her fingertips. Was he not enjoying this?

He broke the kiss, nipping her swollen lips gently, teasing her. Pulling back slightly, he ran his hands up her hips, across her stomach and paused just before he reached her breasts, and she nearly stomped her foot in frustration.

“Is this okay?” he rasped, his voice causing goosebumps to break out over her flesh. She watched him, his features pulled tight, lines of strain bracketing his mouth. Was he holding back? That was the last thing she wanted! She threw herself at him, her restraint gone, her nerves defeated, her desire flaring to life. She crashed her mouth to his, banging their teeth together, trying to get closer to him and he growled low in his throat.

“Honey, is this okay?” His hands hovered either side of her, and she realized he was trying not to touch her until she gave him permission.

“Oh, God, yes!” she cried, and he immediately palmed her breasts, swiping his thumbs over her hard nipples, the sensations overwhelming her, directly connected to her core which ached for attention. Her hips rolled against him in reaction. She felt him, thick and hard through his jeans and her eyes rolled back at the contact but it didn’t last long because he turned his pelvis away. She pulled back.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, concerned yet pleased to note he was panting.

“Yeah, I just want to take this slowly, for you, but it’s harder than I thought,” he said, swiping a hand over his jaw.

“I know it is,” she purred, and stroked her hand over the hard muscles of his chest and down his stomach to his crotch. He groaned.

“I don’t want to overstep or push you to do anything too fast.”

“Blake, you have my consent to do whatever you want to do, if you do something I don’t like or I want to stop, trust me, I’ll tell you.”

At her words, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up, carrying her to the bed and laying her down gently. He stepped back, his eyes running over her, like he wasn’t sure where to start touching her first. She just needed him to touch her, now.

“Take off your shirt,” she demanded.

*

His cock twitched at her demand, eager to get to her. He smiled at her, enjoying her display of aggression. He did exactly as she said. He reached up and pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to her. She caught it, smiling, and ran her eyes over his body, drinking in the sight of him.

“Now, your pants.”

He tried not to laugh at this new side of her. She was a quick study, he would give her that, but he was in charge here. He looked down at her as he scrubbed a hand over his beard thoughtfully.

“Honey, here I am exposing my chaste, delicate flesh while you lay there fully-clothed. You have me at a disadvantage so I think you should remove your shirt.” he said. She narrowed her eyes at him before smoothing her expression.

“Well, I guess fair’s fair,” she said, and slowly peeled her t-shirt over her head and then he forgot how to breathe. Her plump breasts spilled out from the tops of her lacy orange bra. The lace so delicate it was practically see-through, the sight of her brown nipples, hard and reaching for him had his mouth watering. Her waist was narrow, but her hips were round, she was perfect, and he was speechless.

She must have misunderstood his silence because her face fell, and she started trying to cover herself. He launched forward, straddling her body and grabbing her hands, pulling them down.

“Oh, no you don’t. I wasn’t done looking my fill,” he murmured. He bent his head, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, along her clavicle, pulling her bra strap down to continue his journey. She ran her hands up his chest, his muscles tensing under her touch. She swirled her fingers through his chest hair before running down and over his six-pack. His skin began to heat, desperate to have her hands all over him, begging for her touch.

He reached around to the clasp on her bra but paused before he unsnapped it. She nodded her consent and he flicked it open, drawing it away from her body. He looked at her breasts, perfect handfuls he couldn’t wait to get his mouth on.

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