He grinned. “I like it when you shiver.” His hands closed around her face, slowly, slowly, then he was cupping her jaw. “I want to make you forget every other man.” The silver in his gaze heated, steel being forged into something sharp and strong. “I want to make you like it.”
His voice was husky, a sensual promise layered with inexorable yearning. In that instant, resistance proved hopeless. She might not recover when they parted—so what. Thinking of him with other women in the coming weeks and being consumed by jealousy—no biggie.
Right now, the decision to be with a man was hers and hers alone. Yes or no, she decided.
There was freedom in that realization. There was joy. Hope that she could have something pure, something right. Lord, hope was a dangerous emotion. In the end, it might very well be hope that destroyed her. Still. She could be with Jaxon and she could belong, if only for a night. Tomorrow she could regret.
Yes, tomorrow she would worry. Tonight, she would live.
“You already know I like it with you. I’ve never minded your touch,” she told him softly. “I don’t know why.”
His pupils dilated, black nearly overshadowing silver. “I know why.”
“Well, clue me in.” Up, up traveled her arms, then they snaked around his neck. Her fingers tangled in his hair. The silky strands were short yet long enough to tickle her knuckles.
He sucked in a breath as his c**k jumped against her stomach. “Hold everything. I blacked out for a moment. What were we talking about?”
Surely not. Surely her lips were not lifting in a smile. Amusement in bed? How odd and amazingly wonderful. She rarely ever laughed. Rarely ever had reason to. Humor, like choice, was another thing that had been denied her, she realized. “You were about to tell me why I like to touch you.”
A sheen of sweat layered his skin and desire practically hummed from his tense body. Obviously, he was fiercely aroused. But he didn’t swoop in and crush their lips together.
He was going to take his time, she suspected. He was going to treat this like it was her first time, just as he’d done with their kiss. She melted all the more.
Practically purring, he nuzzled his nose against her cheek. “I can’t think of the right words. I think I’m just going to have to show you.”
Please.
As though he’d heard her unspoken plea, he slowly lifted his head.
Their gaze locked together, fused by fire and need. Her ni**les hardened further, rubbing against the soft material of her dress. Moisture flooded between her legs. Had she been standing, she would have fallen.
“Ready for me?”
Suddenly incapable of speech, she nodded.
One of his hands slid up her side, over her ribcage, and stopped at the curve of her breast. His thumb brushed back and forth, gentle, so gentle. She twisted slightly in an attempt to move that thumb to her aching nipple.
His lips were drawn over his teeth, tight and strained. His eyes were narrowed on her mouth. “If I do anything you don’t like, all you have to do is say stop.”
Swallowing, she found her voice. “I’ll like. Swear.” Never had she throbbed like this. Never had she felt less in control of her body, but she didn’t panic as she’d always feared. She reveled.
This was Jaxon. This was her choice.
“Spread your legs for me, baby. Wider.”
She obeyed, causing the hem of her dress to ride up to her hips. Jaxon’s long, hard c**k pressed against her clitoris. She gasped. He moaned. In the midst of that moan, he finally, finally settled his lips atop hers. His tongue swept inside her mouth, hot and tasting of total passion.
When she met the erotic roll of his tongue with a roll of her own, he angled his head for deeper contact. So deep she felt him inside her fantasies. And as decadent minutes ticked past—more, I need more—his kiss became her only means of survival, feeding her body and soul, his breath filling her lungs.
“Your mouth is heaven, you know that?” he whispered. “And my God, your body…” He cupped the small globe of her breast. “Perfection.”
She’d been built for war more than seduction, so his words soothed a bruised feminine ego she’d always kept well hidden. Her creators had told her they’d weighed the pros and cons of big br**sts and the cons had won. While men might think the bigger the better, big would have gotten in her way during fights and escape attempts.
Jaxon gently pinched her nipple, and she gasped at the heady sensation, a lance of pleasure speeding from the hardened bud to her wet, needy core.
“I have to see. Can I see?” His voice was strained, almost broken.
“Yes.”
After a final lick into her mouth, he rose. Inch by inch, he peeled the dress from her shoulders, collar, until the black material bunched under her bra. For several seconds, he simply drank in the dark lace against her flushed skin. Arousal glowed from his features.
“Next time, you’ll have to leave the bra on.” Now he sounded drunk. “The contrast of the black against your pale, rosy skin is living art. Exquisite.”
His praise, dear lord, his praise. But there wouldn’t be a next time. Couldn’t be. She said nothing, however, unwilling to spoil the moment. “What about this time? What are we going to do with the bra?”
“Has to come off.” He worked the clasp and drew the lace from her, freeing her br**sts. The bra soared over his shoulder, and his eyes latched onto her puckered ni**les. “So pink. So mine.”
“Yes.”
“Last time, you didn’t like when I kissed them.”
“I liked,” she said, “I just…”
“What?”
Normally she did not like attention to her ni**les. “They’re too sensitive, too easily turned into pain receptors.”
“I’ll be gentle. I swear it.”
When his dark head lowered and his tongue softly flicked the tip of each peak, she found herself writhing against his erection. The heat. The intensity of the pleasure. Too much, yet not enough. She needed more.
Her nails sank into his scalp. “Don’t stop.”
“Won’t. Swear to God.”
“Lick again.”
His tongue immediately coasted over one before switching to the other, flicking back and forth. A moan escaped her.
“Like that?”
“More.”
Using teeth this time, he softly grazed them. Drew them into his mouth one at a time and sucked, applying just the right amount of pressure.
Again, she moaned. The ache between her thighs was constant now, not pulsing and offering her those few, sweet seconds of relief. No, there was no relief for her. Only desperation and fire.