He ran one hand down her spine, pressed his palm lightly a
gainst the base and brought her into contact with his erection. She gave a little gasp and shifted against him. Her hips arched; the simple action turned him harder than he already was, harder than he’d ever imagined a man could be.
A groan rose in his throat.
As much as he’d wanted her the evening before, tonight he wanted her even more.
Maybe it was because he knew her better now. Maybe it was because he liked what he knew.
Maybe it was both those things and more, maybe it was because he’d spent the entire night and most of the goddamned day thinking about her, about this, about how her skin would taste as he kissed her throat, how her hair would smell as it tickled his nose, how she would moan as he led her to the bed—limping, yes, but without the cane—sat down on the edge and positioned her between his parted thighs.
No way was he going to risk making an ass of himself this time.
Besides, this was better in every possible way.
She was his.
His to undress.
His to watch as he undid her jeans. As he unzipped them. As he eased them over her hips.
She had a perfect belly button. Small. Flat. Just right for kissing.
She made a soft, sweet sound as he kissed the tiny indentation, as he licked her flesh.
“Hold on to my shoulders,” he said, and he drew down her jeans, helped her step free of them.
She was his now. His to touch. To taste.
To possess.
He could feel the blood thrumming in his ears, feel his balls tightening in his scrotum. Everything in him wanted her. Now. Right now. No more waiting. No more hungering for her heat to surround him, but he wanted this to last, wanted to make up to her for last night.
“Nick,” she whispered.
He nipped her shoulder. Drew down her panties. She stepped free of them.
“Nick,” she whispered.
He loved the way she said his name. Loved that she was breathing hard. Loved the delicate scent of her arousal.
Loved that she was naked.
He cupped her breasts again. Ran his hands the length of her body, curved them around her hips. Drew her closer. Closer.
“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart,” he said.
His voice was thick. Raw. She said his name again. Sobbed it as he nuzzled her thighs apart and as soon as he put his mouth against her, she screamed.
It almost undid him.
He was at the edge. Clinging to it. His brain told him to slow down, that he wanted to make this last, but he couldn’t. Not anymore. All that mattered was being inside her.
Nick pulled his sweater over his head and dropped it on the floor. He toed off his boots, unzipped his jeans, tore off the rest of his clothes, fumbled open the night table drawer, felt for the small packets he prayed were there.
His fingers closed around one.
“Wait,” he said harshly, and he tore it open, freed the condom, rolled it on.