I lick my lips again, watching his eyes track the movement. “Hi,” I whisper quietly, then clear my throat when my voice comes out with a little squeak.
“Hi.” He answers right back. He pushes off the porch rail and stalks across the distance between us until he’s standing right in front of me, though he doesn’t touch me. His fingers reach up toward my face but stop just shy of actually touching me. The lack of touch is almost as seductive as the feel of his fingers against my skin. “You know what’s going to happen if you invite me inside, right?”
“Yes,” I answer, my voice still whisper soft. “I know.”
He nods his head. “And you know the minute that happens, that means you’re mine, right, Tristan?”
“Yours?” I tilt my head to one side, studying him.
“Yes,” he confirms, still not touching me. “Mine.”
“Okay,” I say, ready to agree to just about anything to get him to just kiss me already. His grin is wolfish as he flips his baseball hat backward on his head and then ushers me into the house. He pauses with his hand on the door, and I can almost see him remembering the last door he pushed me against. I know I sure as hell remember.
I reach out and wrap my hand around his, tugging gently to get him moving. I want him to know that I am as invested in what’s about to happen as he is. That I want it just as much as he does. When he turns to fully face me, I step into him, reach up on my tiptoes, and lay my mouth against his.
It’s the first kiss that I have initiated between the two of us, and for some reason, I feel timid and shy as I move my lips over his. Almost like it’s my first kiss and I’m some sort of awkward teenager. I don’t even open my mouth, and after a moment, I drop back down on my feet. His eyes are dark as they meet mine, swirling with lust, and something else, something deeper that sends my heart racing.
I tug on his hand again, urging him up the stairs and down the short hallway to my bedroom. Even though Stella isn’t in the house, I still close the bedroom door behind us. Nerves skitter up and down my spine. It’s been so long since I’ve shared my body with a man, and the last time was before I gave birth, and nothing went back to the way it had been before. I lost most of the pregnancy weight I’d gained but my thighs are a little thicker than they’d been before, my stomach a little rounder, and there are stretch marks along both. They don’t embarrass me; I earned every damn one of them while I carried Stella, but if he’s used to women who look like Lesa, he’s in for some disappointment.
“Stop.” His voice cuts through my thoughts. My eyes jerk back to his at the barked command. “Whatever it is you’re thinking right now. Just stop.” His hand reaches up, fingers dusting along my jaw. “Tonight is just me and you, Tristan.” He palms my jaw in his hand, pulling me closer to him. “And it’s whatever you want it to be. Whatever you’re ready for it to be. You’re completely in control of what does or doesn’t happen tonight. You say stop, and we stop.” He pauses for a minute. “But I’m really fucking hoping you say go.”
His fingers dance along the bare skin of my shoulder, one finger sliding under the strap of my camisole, causing goose bumps to pimple up along my skin. He’s watching me intently, those dark eyes zeroed in on mine, as he waits for my answer. My heart rate picks up, and tension fills the air. This feels like he’s talking about more than just sex. I take a deep breath, exhaling slowly as I reach up and press my hand against his chest, right above his heart. “Go.”
His mouth swoops in and covers mine. It’s like coming home. The thought flutters through my head as his lips slide over mine. It’s like coming home and waking up on Christmas morning to a room full of presents I asked Santa Claus for, and every birthday wish I’ve every wished coming true all at the same time.
Owen kisses with an intensity I’ve never experienced before. It’s all-consuming, leaving no doubt that he’s focused solely on me, and the moment between us. His hands frame my face as his mouth slants over mine, his tongue licking at my lips, asking for permission to invade, and I’m ready to surrender.
He spins us, walking me backward until my knees hit the bed and I land on my ass on the mattress. He pushes forward again, his lips never leaving mine as he guides me down until my back hits the bed, as well, and he presses his weight against me.
I feel his hand skim down my side, fingers sneaking beneath my camisole and spreading out against the skin of my stomach. I wiggle around enough to get the necessary space between us to undo the buttons of his shirt. I spread the material wide, pushing it down across his shoulders so I can slide the material down his arms.
I could write sonnets about the muscles in his arms alone. The sleek line of his shoulder, the dip of skin as it gives way to his bicep, then down into the strong line of his forearm.
Then there are the rippling muscles of his chest, that lead down into the beautiful peaks and valleys that make up the best set of abs I’ve ever seen in my life. I have to touch them, the need is simply too great.
He sucks in a breath as I smooth my fingers over his stomach before moving them to trace the edge of a sail on the ship tattooed on his side. “Fuck.” He hisses out a breath. “I’m not going to last very long if just the touch of your fucking fingers on my stomach almost sets me off.”
A smile steals over my lips. “Oh yeah?” I move my fingers back down, over the front of his jeans where I squeeze gently, reveling in the feel of him in my hands. His breath hisses out again, his eyes closing briefly before snapping open and landing on mine again. “Fuck, woman, do you want this to be over before it begins?”
“Hell no,” I answer with a laugh. “I have faith that you can hold out.” I squeeze again, causing his eyes to nearly cross. The power is heady.
“You know two can play that game, right?” I suck in a breath as his hand steals the rest of the way up my shirt to cover my breast. With the camisole bunched at the top of my breasts, he adjusts our positions, bending so that his mouth can skim over the skin of my stomach, then up farther, so his lips close around my nipple.
His tongue laves the hardened peak, sending jolt after jolt of pleasure straight down to my core as if the two are somehow connected. It would take nothing for me to give in to this moment, to revel in the feel of his mouth on me, the skim of his fingers on my skin as they dance down my side, sliding along the band of my sweatpants.
It takes a concentrated effort to pull myself out of the haze of lust clouding my vision. But I somehow manage to pull it off.
I put my hands on his face, urging him back up so my lips can close around his. I’m desperate for the taste of him, for the weight of him pressing me back into the mattress. It’s been so long since I’ve felt that, since I’ve relished in the feeling of having someone so completely focused on me. Since I’ve been so completely focused on someone else. On the pleasure I’m receiving, and the pleasure I’m giving.
Tonight though, tonight I want to focus on the pleasure I’m giving. Twice now Owen has given me the most explosive orgasm I’ve ever known. As his other hand starts to follow the first in its travels slowly down my body, fingers ghosting over my skin as he moves, I know if I’m not careful, he’s going to let it all be about me again.