Yes, he had. And yes, he was right. But she wasn’t one to throw caution to the wind, let bygones be bygones, or any of those other silly, stupid clichés. She was boring. She was normal. She was a widow who didn’t have much of a social life and definitely didn’t have any kind of sex life.
It seemed the man who lay with her, his naked legs entwined with her clothed ones, was determined to change that.
“Please don’t tell me to stop.” His voice lowered another fraction, sexy and deep and rumbling from his chest. “You can’t deny what’s happening between us.”
“And what is that?” She wanted to hear him say it, but he kissed her again, his tongue sweeping the recesses of her mouth before he answered her.
“Chemistry. Attraction. I think I wanted you the second I saw you.”
“Really?” No way could she believe that, could she? She’d been so shy, so quiet, so nothing special. It was hard for her to think of herself as anything else. But right now, being in Chris’s arms, his hands all over her, his mouth attached to hers, he made her feel like a woman. And until this moment, she hadn’t realized how much she needed that.
“You like to contradict me, don’t you?” Again, another chuckle, another nuzzle of his cheek against hers. He slid his hand beneath her shirt, curved around and up her front, until he cupped her naked right breast in his wide palm. “No bra. I thought so.”
“You were hoping I didn’t have a bra on?”
“Oh, yeah. I thought about a lot of things. All of them good. All of them involving you. And me. Like this.”
There was no way she could deny him, not when he thumbed her nipple with such aching precision, not when he slipped his other hand beneath the waistband of her flannel pants to smooth over her bottom, his palm burning through the soft cotton of her panties.
His hands were magic, his mouth not allowing her the chance to protest, since he swallowed all of her words with one delicious, long kiss. He devoured her, his lips soft and damp, his velvety tongue tangling with hers. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. She could only feel, and it all felt so, so right.
“Chris.” She stiffened, fear turning her spine to ice, and she shoved at his shoulders. “I—I can’t.”
“I know you’re scared.” He drew away so he could look at her. She hated that he could see her, that the light was on, and she wished they were in darkness. It wouldn’t be so bad, then, and she might’ve felt braver.
Right now, she didn’t feel brave at all. She wanted to run. She wished for her old body, her old confidence.
“I don’t think I’m ready,” she confessed, feeling like an insecure fool.
He didn’t stop touching her. Just traced her skin with gentle fingers, along her hairline, touching her scars. She tried to jerk away but he held tight. “I think you might be, honey. I have a feeling you are, but you’re just cautious. Afraid.”
“It’s been a long time.” She paused. “I’ve only been with, truly with, one man. And that was my husband.”
He was silent, absorbing her words, and probably getting ready to run.
“Then he was a lucky man, your husband.”
Oh, God. She absolutely melted. What could she say to that? How was she supposed to react to something so sweet, so sincere? The corners of her eyes pricked with tears and she shook her head, refusing to let them fall. She’d cried enough to last a lifetime. No way did she want to break out in sobs while in bed with this sexy, thoughtful man.
“No one has seen me since—since the accident.” She nibbled on her lower lip, tried to tell him without actually saying it that she didn’t want to reveal the scars all over her body.
“I won’t push you into doing something you don’t want, Jane.” He traced his finger along the side of her face, touching her scars again, but she didn’t flinch, didn’t move.
“I know.” And she did know that. She believed it with all her heart.
“I’ll stop if you ask me to.”
“I know that, too.” She trusted him. She cared for him, even.
This was why she lay with him, why she wanted more but was too afraid to admit it.
“Turn off the light.” Her voice trembled, a breathy little whisper, and he did as she requested, reaching over and shutting off the lamp with a flick of his fingers.
He drew her close and she held onto him. She slid her hands down his chest and marveled at his smooth skin, the hard muscles beneath her palms. He was so big, so strong, and his slowly exhaled hiss of breath made her pause.
“Don’t stop,” he said, his voice tight. “Keep touching me.”
Jane continued her exploration, skimming her hands down his rib cage, along his stomach, tracing every dip and ridge, the soft hair that grew just below his belly button tickling her fingers. She couldn’t believe she’d taken it this far.