He nudged her slightly and Katie responded, swinging a leg over his body. Her heart seemed to sink like a stone to her belly as she watched him stand next to the bed.
“I’ll be right back,” he mumbled.
She realized he was flushing the condom. In the seconds of his absence, she began to feel uncomfortable . . . exposed. Rill made her feel beyond desirable when he was hot and aroused, but when he wasn’t, she couldn’t help but feel that he found her disappointing somehow.
Inadequate.
She heard the bathroom door open. Her eyes popped. He was returning. She was completely naked, but still wearing her Kit boots. She reached to whip them off, but it was too late. Rill’s step was just outside the door, and she didn’t want to be found fumbling around clumsily on the bed. She hastily pulled her long hair around her shoulders and drew up her knees. Her heart found the wherewithal to begin beating out a rapid warning in her ears despite all the hard work it’d done in the past hour.
Rill stepped into the room, a long, breathtaking landscape of brawn, sex and naked skin. His short, dark hair was tousled and sticking up at odd angles, just the way she liked it. The whiskers darkening his jaw looked sexy as hell, and had felt even more so slightly abrading the tender skin of her breasts. He started to reach for his bedside table and gave her a quick glance.
He froze, his hand outstretched.
Katie’s eyes widened when she saw the way his brows drew together. This situation sucked. What was he thinking? She had no freaking idea what to expect from Rill in that awkward moment. She had no clue what she was supposed to do. Try to knock some sense into his thick skull? Get up and leave? Scream in frustration over his stubbornness?
He pulled on the drawer, reached and withdrew something. He dropped a box of condoms on the table. It sounded like a small bomb exploding in Katie’s brain. He stood by the side of the bed, naked and magnificent, and examined her through narrowed eyelids.
“I told you not to look at me like that, Katie.”
“Like what?” she asked edgily.
“Like you think I’m the big bad wolf or something. You’re the one who started this. Why’d you cover yourself?”
“I . . . I wasn’t sure what—”
“I told you,” he interrupted quietly. Katie wished she could identify the expression on his face. She wished she wasn’t flailing around in confusion like a newly blinded person. “It’s done. You started this. There’s nothing left for it now.” A small, bleak grin pulled at his lips. “I’m going to wear you out, Katie. Now . . . move your hair.” His eyes flickered down over her body. Did his gaze stick on her boots for a split second? He glanced back up to her face. “Please,” he added gruffly.
Katie managed to shut her gaping mouth. “Are you still mad at me?” she asked cautiously.
He seemed to consider and shrugged. “Every time I think about you trying to cut your hair off I feel like turning you over my knee again. What the hell were you thinking, Katie?” he asked, incredulity and his accent heavily spicing his tone.
What t’ hell were you t’inking, Kai-tee?
A flash of indignation straightened her spine. “What should you care if I cut it off? You’d just told me you hated it.”
“Hate it? I never said I hated it. It’s the most beautiful mess of stuff I’ve ever seen in my life,” he scowled. “I love your hair.”
Katie stared in shock.
“I may love it, but I want it out of the way at the moment,” he said as he placed one knee on the bed and looked down at her, waiting. His posture struck her as thrilling for some reason . . . dominant and possessive. Katie sat up and swept her hair around her shoulders. His nostrils flared as he raked her body with his gaze. Katie noticed that his long, flaccid penis lengthened and swelled slightly. When she looked back at his face, she saw that he’d been watching her examine him.
“Lay back, Katie.”
She leaned against the pillows slowly. She trusted Rill implicitly, but this determined, hard side of his character that she’d discovered upon arriving in Vulture’s Canyon confused her. What should she expect? She’d already allowed him unprecedented liberties with her person. He’d restrained her, spanked her . . . owned her. Katie’d been restrained before during sex; she used to have a boyfriend who fancied handcuffs upon occasion. But it’d been just a mild stimulant, evoking nothing even remotely similar to the sexual arousal she experienced in submitting to Rill’s demands.
Consequently, she might have been watching Rill as he came toward her on hands and knees precisely like he was the big bad wolf.
He straddled her, his hands a few inches from either side of her head. Even though he was on his hands and knees, he covered nearly her entire body.
He slowly started to lower over her, his eyes rapt on her face. Katie’s breath caught in anticipation when his warm flesh brushed against her nipples, then molded against her ribs and belly. He pressed her into the mattress, holding her captive beneath his weight. And in a million years, she’d have never guessed what Rill would do next.
He kissed her softly . . . no tongue . . . just brushing, questing, firm lips. He sandwiched her lower lip between his, then the upper; he molded her to him and taught Katie the miracles that could be evoked from a concentrated focus of nature and a talented mouth. Her body softened and heated beneath the power of that kiss. He nipped at her lower lip and then slicked the tip of his tongue over the spot, as if to soothe her.
She stared up at him between heavy eyelids when he stopped. His penis had stiffened along her thigh and hip.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you for days. I keep dreaming about it,” he admitted gruffly. He looked at her lips, his eyes glittering blue crescents beneath heavy lids. “Your mouth ought to be outlawed. Every time I think about how
you got so good at giving head, I think I might break something. That’s right, open up,” he rasped when she prepared to protest.