They kissed and kissed, their hands roaming, both wearing far too many clothes. Harper felt the proof of his desire and rubbed herself against him. He hissed out a sound of tortured arousal, his lips breaking from hers.
She ran a finger down the scar under his cheekbone, gazing at him, beautiful and fierce and for a moment—but only a moment—she was fearful of the deep need she saw in his gaze. He wanted to take her, to claim her, to mate fiercely and with wild abandon. She saw it in his eyes, in the set of his jaw, but then his expression gentled and the fierceness in his eyes diminished. Her breath came easier, her heartbeat slowed, but something deep inside had spiked in response and then dipped as it faded. She didn’t know what to call it. All she knew was that she wanted him too.
“Take me to bed, Jak,” she murmured. “I want to be with you.”
His eyes widened, and he took one small step back, as if he needed to be able to see her better, to read the expression on her face to know that she meant what he thought she did. “Make love to me
,” she clarified.
“Yes,” he said, and the simplicity of his answer when his eyes burned so bright and his body trembled, made her smile.
He raised his hand and then dropped it. “Where . . . where should we start?”
“Removing our clothes is probably a good place to start.”
His smile was sweet and unsure. Boyish. But he raised his hands and pulled off his shirt, exposing his beautiful chest to her, his scars standing out white and raised in the dim light. She leaned forward, trailing her tongue along one, and then another. He pulled in a breath, bringing his hands to her scalp and dragging his fingers through her hair. She made a purring sound, raising her head and trailing her fingers down his sides.
“Harper,” he moaned, a note of desperation in his tone.
“Yes,” she said, “I know.” This wasn’t going to last long. But after this time, they had all night. The muscles between her legs clenched at the thought.
“This might . . .” He swallowed, seeming suddenly unsure, gathering his control. “We might have a . . .” His brow furrowed and her breath paused. “Offspring,” he finished.
Oh. She exhaled, her heart filling with tenderness. She shook her head. “No. I’m on, uh, I take something so that won’t happen.”
He regarded her quizzically for a moment but then nodded, his eyes heating once more as she began to undress.
She removed her clothes as he watched, his eyes devouring every part of her as it was revealed, his breath releasing in soft pants. A look of such deep approval in his eyes that she felt beautiful. Worshipped.
She took his hand and they walked the few steps to the bed. He pulled off his boots and then his pants so fast a giggle bubbled up in her chest, but died when her gaze fell to his erection, jutting toward her, large and flushed reddish purple with the intensity of his lust. For her.
She swallowed. “Do you know how to do this?” she whispered.
He stepped toward her, his voice gravelly, thick. “I . . . know the basics. The rest, you’ll have to show me. I have . . . questions.”
“Like what?” she whispered. Why was she stalling now? Am I scared? she asked herself. Not of him, not of this, she realized. It was just that she’d never felt this kind of . . . gravity when it came to sex. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to. Maybe she’d made a point of avoiding it for the lack of control it brought. But now, she realized she’d denied herself the very thing that might have helped to heal her.
As he moved his finger under her breast, he watched in rapt fascination as her nipple stiffened and she shivered with delight. “I’ll let you know as they come up.”
He took her hand, and now he was leading her to the edge of the bed, where he pulled back the blankets and guided her to lie next to him. He pulled the covers over them and for a few minutes, they simply gloried in the feel of naked skin against naked skin, in the warmth they shared, the safety of her room, the hopefulness that stretched before them. The long, delicious night that lay ahead. Harper’s skin prickled, and a sigh fell from her lips as his mouth nuzzled the swell of her breast, moving around it. She watched him for a moment, realizing that he was avoiding her nipples. “You can kiss me there,” she whispered, turning her body slightly, offering herself to him. He looked briefly puzzled, but then his eyes darkened, lust flaring, and he lowered his mouth to her nipple, sucking gently. She moaned.
“You like that,” he noted, his voice gravelly, awe in his tone.
“Yes,” she breathed. He lowered his head again, spending long minutes nuzzling, rolling his tongue around her nipples, driving her crazy with desire, the vibration between her legs heightening to a feverish pitch.
“Jak,” she gasped, pulling at him, needing him to fill the emptiness inside her.
He rose up over her, a shadow in the darkness, his eyes glittering with intensity, and though she would have expected her heart to stall, her desire to fade, in fact the opposite happened. Her body thrilled. Answered to him in some primal way she couldn’t define. She felt a heady rush of arousal and her need for him made her writhe, the hot pulsing between her legs causing a sweet ache. She opened her thighs, giving him invitation, asking him to take the most tender part of her and make her his. I trust you, she thought. With every part of me.
She took her hand and lined his erection up at her entrance. “Slow,” she whispered.
He did as she instructed, but she could tell it was costing him, his breath coming out in fast pants, his limbs trembling as he entered her one slow inch at a time, stretching her so it was a delicious pleasure . . . pain. Her body adjusted, muscles clasping as he penetrated her to the hilt, grunting, an animalistic sound of profound pleasure, of joy, of relief and surprise and desperation all mixed together.
She didn’t have to instruct him what to do then. His body took over, as he pulled out slowly and then pushed back in, his movements corresponding to long masculine groans of ecstasy and short grunts of exclamation as he buried himself inside her and then pulled out again. He moved with such singular focus, and the sounds he made set her on fire. And oh God, he felt so good, his body big and hot and hard, filling her, his rough skin rubbing on her most sensitive parts, back forth, back forth, but too slowly. Too torturously slowly. “Faster,” she groaned, a pleading note to her voice. “Faster, faster, faster,” she panted.
“I’ll . . .”
“I know,” she said. “I want to feel it. I want to feel you.” She wanted to watch him as he fell apart inside her for the first time. She couldn’t wait.