Walk the Line (Man of the Month 12)

"The lady wants it wilder. Harder."

"The lady wants everything," she clarified. "The lady's not even sure what she wants." Her cheeks warmed. "I'm not very experienced."

He cupped her face. "Elena, are you a virgin?"

She shook her head, glad for her answer, because she had a feeling that he would have backed off if she'd said yes. "I'm not," she said, just to be clear. "But I also haven't been with a lot of guys."

"Never apologize for that," he told her.

"It's just that I don't know--"

"Yeah," he said. "I promise that you do. If you didn't, how do you account for this?"

He took her hand and pressed it against the erection that strained to escape his jeans. She drew in a breath, her body longing for the connection he was offering, but wanting more, too. So much more.

"Is that what you want, Elena?"

"Yes." The answer came without thought or hesitation. "But not yet. First I want--"

He pressed his fingers over her lips. "Let me play," he said. "And if I don't get it just right, you can set me straight, okay?"

She nodded.

"But first, I think we need to move our venue. I don't want to be interrupted when I have you naked and writhing beneath me, do you?"

She swallowed. "No. But you're teasing me."

"Of course I am. But I'm still telling the truth."

She thought of that. Tried to anticipate the pressure of his body on hers. The feel of his cock pressing against her core. The power of the thrust when he found a rhythm and drove it home. She wanted to wake up tomorrow with her thighs aching from being spread so wide, and she wanted to be able to close her eyes and remember what it felt like to be filled by this man.

"What are you thinking?" he asked as they walked to his bedroom.

"That I want you inside me," she said boldly.

"Well, then. I guess it's both our lucky days."

He closed the door, then turned to her. "Take off your clothes."

She lifted a brow, then lifted it higher when he sat on the foot of the bed his mouth cocked up in a grin. "Go on," he said. "I want to watch."

Instinct told her to decline. But desire made her comply. She wanted to strip for him. Wanted to see the heat build in his eyes. Most of all, she wanted to see the breaking point when he couldn't take it anymore. When he went from watching to touching to taking.

Her heart fluttered. Yes. Oh, God, yes. That's what she wanted. To be taken by this man, claimed by him. Worshipped by him.

She lifted her hands to her shoulders, then moved them down, lower and lower as she grazed her fingertips over her collar bone, over the swell of her breasts, over her nipples.

She gasped from her own boldness. From the exotic caress that he was witnessing. But she didn't hesitate, and she didn't close her eyes. And when she finally reached the hem of the shirt, she grasped it between two fingers and gently tugged it up.

It was mo

re awkward than she'd anticipated to take off a shirt slowly, but she never lost control, until finally she stood in front of him in only her bra. That was when she took one of her fingers, slipped it into her own mouth, then slid the slick finger down inside her jeans, biting her lower lip as she got closer and closer to her core.

"No," he said, and for a moment she thought that he wanted her to stop. Then she realized that she'd started to close her eyes. "Look at me. Eyes right on me."

She did as he said, then saw when the break came. The moment when he couldn't merely watch anymore. When he had to touch her.

She saw it--and she felt the power of it, too. Knowing that she'd compelled him. That his desire for her had propelled him toward her so that now he was on his knees in front of her, his hands at her hips as he drew her jeans down, slowly revealing the tiny pair of cotton panties.