Page 39 of So Wrong It's Right

I’m debating my next move when Christopher wakes up. He’s got his arm around me and he squeezes, kissing my hair. Moving so I can see his face, I try to figure this guy out.

He looks relaxed and at peace, and his fingers are combing through my hair gently.

Is he awake or is he sleep-combing? “Christopher?”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

I warm all the way through. “You are?”

His hand moves to my jaw, cupping it while he carefully considers my face. There’s a tenderness I’m not used to in his eyes. A glowing ember instead of a shooting spark. “I really am.”

Slowly, like I’m afraid it might be the wrong move, I turn my face into his palm and press a kiss there. He swallows hard, calmly takes off his glasses, and flings them onto the coffee table so he can get his other hand on my face and bring me to a kiss.

I’m still sleep warmed and groggy. Maybe I’m the one who is dreaming. He would never throw his glasses, would he? Not Dr. Retentive.

He tilts my head to get a better angle. How can every kiss we share be so different from the last? This one...it’s sexy and deep and slow with a reverence that squeezes my heart. For once, he’s not frustrated with me. Nobody is trying to prove a point or convince bystanders we’re a couple. It’s just the two of us being...us. He coaxes me up and onto his lap without ever stopping his drugging assault on my mouth. His strong hands clutch me like I’m precious and I sink into him, groaning as I rub against the hardness of his erection.

“What you do to me, Stella,” he tells me between kisses.

I want to know. I want to hear. But now is not a time for conversation and everything inside me lights up being in this man’s arms. Desperate to be closer, I start tearing off my clothes, but his strong arms band around me. “Wait. Just wait. Slow. I want to show you.”

“I want to see whatever you’re showing, believe me. Just do it faster.”

He laughs. And then he’s feeding me kisses and pulling me into his hard body until I feel that sweet high that usually only happens after coming. He lays me down on the couch and removes my clothes carefully, kissing my skin as it’s exposed, until I’m in my panties and he’s still dressed.

“I didn’t take my time with you on Sunday. That was a mistake.”

“The mistake is you’re still wearing clothes.”

“I’m going to enjoy every minute of torturing you, Stella. Every inch of you is mine.” He licks my neck below my ear. “This taunts me every day.” He sucks hard and my hips jerk up reflexively.

He growls as his hands pin my arms down and he moves his roving mouth lower, sucking my nipples into his hot, wet mouth. I strain against him, but he’s pinned me to the couch, his strong body turning me on even more as he overpowers me.

He stays on my breasts a long time, groaning into my skin. “So good, baby.”

Did he just call me baby? He doesn’t seem to be the kind of guy who uses endearments easily. But I could be reading too much into it. Maybe because I want it to mean something. I want this to meansomething, even if it’s not forever.

Nothing wrong with making a moment count.

I’ve never had a problem with sex for sex’s sake. But I’m having a hard time keeping my heart out of this. His earthy scent, his words, the time he’s taking, the way he dominates my senses...it’s pushing me further and further underwater. I don’t want air. I don’tneedair. I just need him.

“I want your skin, doc. Take off these clothes.”

He gives a slow, masculine smile, and I feel bits of my heart chip off like stardust. “So take what you want, Stella.”

He rolls us over so I am on top.

I know he wants slow, so I pace myself. Starting with the top button of his shirt, using just my fingertips, I release each button one at a time, spreading the shirt while just barely skimming his chest, yet grinding against the bulge in his pants.

“I love the way you’re looking at me right now.”

“I love looking at you.” I swipe my hand across his chest and down, his muscles jump reflexively under my hands. “I love touching you, too.” My hands continue to rove over the mountains and valleys of his cut torso, the soft, downy happy trail showing me the way to where I want to be.

Then he flips us again.

“I got you, now.”

“I guess you do. The question is, what are you going to do about it?”

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