The Best Next Thing ((Un)Professionally Yours 1)

“I want to touch you…Miles,” she admitted, and he swallowed back a groan as his cock swelled to painful proportions.

“Come here,” he invited, holding out a trembling hand to her, and she closed the gap between them with agonizing slowness. She reached out and the sock tumbled—forgotten—from her hand as it opened to take his.

That first touch was like a jolt of electricity through his entire body. He sizzled with awareness of her. Of her closeness, of her soft skin against his, of the flowery scent of her ruthlessly bound hair.

He guided her captive hand to his chest, certain she could feel the frantic, heavy beat of his heart as it tried to hammer its way right into her palm.

“I’m all yours.”

Three words. Small, uncomplicated words.

I’m all yours.

Tiny words that promised complete sovereignty over the hot, smooth skin beneath her palm, and ownership of his magnificent body.

It was a freedom that Charity had never dreamed he would afford her. A privilege which hadn’t been offered to her in so long that she wasn’t certain what to do with it now…all she could do was act on instinct, desire, and need.

Her hand smoothed its way over the still damp expanse of his chest. Silky hair attractively dusted across his pecs, darkened and thickened as it followed a trail down the center of his chest, along the shallow valley between his abs and then spread to his flat stomach around his indented belly button.

His muscles spasmed and bunched beneath her tentative touch, and he bit back an anguished groan when she swept her hand back up, just missing his tight nipple on the way to his shoulder, where she wrapped her palm around that hard, muscled curve and squeezed gently.

He felt so wonderful. All smooth, tensile, and repressed strength.

She shifted closer until they were almost chest to chest; an echo of their pseudo-embrace that night at the pool…So close that she could feel the warmth of her own breath as it bloomed against the skin of his throat. All she had to do was be brave and bridge the virtually non-existent gap between them.

But she wasn’t certain she had any courage left. Not after the day she’d had. Joining him on his trip to Klein Bekkie, kissing him on the beach, and even telling him about Blaine. And now this; coming to his room, when she had known that it would lead to so much more.

Be brave. Her new mantra. Her prayer. Her wish…

She could be brave. She was brave.

Her lips touched his clean, damp, hot skin. Softened and blossomed against it.

He groaned and the soft, deep rumble reverberated through her chest and trembled down her spine until her legs liquefied, and her free hand moved up to his other shoulder for support.

Her lips trailed up beneath the firm ledge of his jaw, and she was both disappointed and gratified to find that he had shaved. She missed the pirate, but she welcomed back the attractive, urbane man she had initially found herself drawn to.

He still hadn’t moved, and she wasn’t quite sure what she would do if—when—he did. Bravery was one thing when it wasn’t tested…but the moment he took the initiative from her; she would find herself tested. Still, expecting him not to move while she had her wicked way with him wasn’t practical, and it wasn’t what she wanted.

But what she wanted terrified her.

She—very slowly, as if she were handling a wild animal—wrapped her arms around his neck and finally found his mouth. For the first time since he had so generously offered his body to her, he moved; bending his neck to allow her easy access to his mouth. She traced the outline of those sensuous, wicked lips with her tongue, before softly planting her mouth on his.

This kiss was as timid as the one on the beach and, while she was eager to deepen it, to explore him more fully, she was petrified of unleashing something in him. Something wild and uncontrollable. It was an unfair and unfounded fear. She knew that…

Miles was not Blaine.

She had never met a more controlled man than Miles. And the iron clad command he appeared to have over his emotions and his responses, should make her feel safe. But self-governance was one thing when you were dealing with your family, your staff, or business. However, things could get messy when sex was involved.

“Get out of your head, Charity. Stay in this moment. With me.” His gruff voice startled her. She opened her eyes and tilted back her head to stare at him. His gray eyes were warm and accepting. She was startled to realize that she had frozen with her arms still wrapped around his neck. The kiss that she had initiated now dead on their lips, while she wallowed in self-pity and fear.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, hearing despair quivering in the words.

“Don’t be,” he said. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Do you want to stop?”

She reflected on the question. Then considered how wonderful it felt to be plastered against his hot, hard body. Contemplated how glorious his erection felt cradled against her subtly rocking pelvis.

She brought her hands to his face, palming his lean cheeks, and smiled at him.