He wanted to press a kiss to the hollow. Did she remember what the shopkeeper had said? That the thistle represented devotion?
“I like seeing it on you. Maybe that’s a little caveman of me.”
“I don’t mind. It was a way to keep you with me, too.”
It wasn’t precisely the declaration he wanted, but it was an opening, a beginning. An admission that he hadn’t been in this alone. He could build on that. He was very, very good at building things.
Stepping into her space, he ran a finger over the silver filigree, watching her shiver, her eyes going to half mast. “I’ve got this fantasy about this necklace.”
“What’s that?” The huskiness in her tone had more blood draining out of his head.
“Seeing you wearing nothing but this, while stretched out on my bed.”
She snapped her gaze to his, eyes molten.
“Will you give me that fantasy, Tess?”
Without hesitation, she stepped into him. “Yes.”
Mitch cupped her nape, tipping her face up to his. But instead of taking her mouth, instead of diving headlong into the heat bubbling between them, he brushed his lips over her brow, her temple. Tiny, whispering kisses all over her face and down the column of her throat. Tess dug her hands into his waist, hanging on as he made it to the hollow of her throat and drained the starch out of her knees.
Sighing his name, she dropped her head back to give him better access. She felt his smile against her throat.
“So lovely,” he murmured.
Tess wanted to strip him down as he did the same to her, until they could give in to the frenzied, frantic beat of attraction she’d felt since the moment she’d seen him again. Right here. Right now. She wondered exactly how sturdy his drafting table was. But that was her fantasy, not his, and she’d promised. So she held on and endured his ruthless patience, letting him seduce her with his touch, his kisses, into believing they had all the time in the world. She fell into that fantasy with him, in this place that was utterly his, as she wanted to be.
He eased them down the hall, never stopping his onslaught against her senses. Her jacket fell to the floor somewhere outside his home office. Gooseflesh pebbled her arms as she wondered when he’d get to her camisole. As they made it to the stairs, he slid his broad palms beneath the hem of her skirt.
“I like the power suit,” he breathed.
“Yeah?”
“I’ll like it better like this.” He nudged the fabric up around her hips, exposing the lacy underwear. “Mmm.”
Tess half expected him to drop to his knees and explore, right there. Instead, he ran his hands over her butt and down her thighs, boosting her up.
“Wrap your legs around me.”
She didn’t have to be told twice. Taking advantage of her position, she made her own leisurely exploration of his throat and ears as they climbed. Her nails lightly scraped along the fine hair at his nape as she very gently bit the lobe of his ear. He hissed in a breath and she abruptly found herself pinned against the wall on the landing, the hardness behind his fly pressed against her center.
“Do you know what you do to me?” he demanded.
Her lips curved into a wicked smile as she rolled her hips against him. “I have some idea.”
His fingers curled into her thighs as he clearly struggled for control. “Later,” he breathed. “Later I will happily take you on every surface in this house. But this first time, I want you in my bed.”
“I’m holding you to that promise.”
He was growling as he surged up the last of the stairs and stumbled down the hall, into a bedroom. Tess had dim impressions of heavy wood furniture and cool gray walls, before he set her back on her feet and took her mouth, his hands plunging into her hair. Tess yanked his shirt free, fingers fighting with the buttons to get to skin. The more desperate she got, the more he seemed to find his control, until they were back to that impossibly languorous pace. How could he do this, when she felt ready to fly apart at the barest of touches? Why wouldn’t he let her?
When at last he’d stripped her down to the necklace and laid her back on the bed in the pool of late afternoon sun, the look on his face nearly sent her over the edge.
“You are so damned beautiful.”
“Touch me.”
“Oh, darlin’, believe me, I intend to touch and taste every inch.”