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She understood then why his privacy was so important to him. A place where no one else could see him, where he could just be himself. And he was allowing her to invade that space.
“I’m glad you showed me this,” she said, fingering a clear vase full of winter flowers.
Then she returned to him, taking his hand and drawing him to the bed.
“We don’t have to . . .”
She put a finger to his mouth. “Shh . . . I want this.” She slowly peeled off her top, tossing it to the floor next to him. “I want this with you.”
He didn’t object further, just skimmed the top of her pants as he pushed her back on the bed. He popped the button as his lips came to hers. Her own hand came up to the buttons of his shirt, slowly sliding them open.
“I’ve never been with someone I haven’t been able to read before.”
“We did just fine in the library.”
He laughed against her mouth. “That was rushed. Now, I want to take my time.”
“I just want you.” She gasped as his bare hands ran across the sensitive skin of her stomach.
“I’m going to have to learn what makes you make those incredible noises,” he said with a cocky, devilish smile on his lips.
His fingers dipped under her waistband, stroking lazily along her hip bones. She groaned and tried not to squirm under his touch. His eyes were curious and hyper-focused on her.
“And how I do love to learn new things,” he purred.
He removed her bra in one fluid motion. Her breasts spilled out of their enclosure, and his eyes moved straight to them. Next came his hands, commanding and firm as he reacquainted himself with them. She tipped her head back as he kneaded a nipple.
“You didn’t even touch me last time,” she said as she reached for him.
“I assure you, I touched you.”
She chuckled. “I mean, you had your gloves on.”
“For most people . . . it’s protection,” he said, his head going to her nipple and taking it into his mouth.
“I like to feel your heat.” She pushed her own hands against his warm chest. “And those hands on me.”
Graves stripped out of his shirt to reveal the muscled chest she had marveled at. The full tattoo on display. Now she dragged her nails across the inky lines of holly vines, down across the thorns piercing his skin, and around the leaves that trailed lower into his pants.
“Your tattoo is so vivid,” she mused. “Can I lick every inch of it?”
He groaned, pressing himself against her. “You can do whatever you want with me,” he promised.
Then he claimed her mouth again. He wasn’t the only one learning, and oh, how she liked his reaction to that. The way he forced himself hard against her, the feel of his erection bulging against his pants.
Carefully, she drew her hand down the front of his pants, cupping him in her grasp. He jerked against her hand. More. She released his mouth and began to kiss her way down his perfect chest, over every intricate detail of his tattoo, noticing the spattering of scars along the way.
She came to her knees before him and then looked up at him from under her lashes. “And if I want this?”
“And I thought I was supposed to learn your body,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Plenty of time for that later.”
His breathing was ragged as she undid his pants and drew them over his narrow hips. His boxer briefs followed, revealing the full length of him before her. She had barely gotten to touch him the last time. Just a firm grip on him before he’d thrust into her.
Now, she wanted all of him. She grasped his cock in her hand, slowly stroking him up and down. Then she fit her mouth around the head of him.
He moaned deep in the back of his throat. She pushed forward, taking in the length of him. When she drew back again, his hips flexed as if he wanted to thrust into her again. She rolled her tongue over the tip teasingly before taking him in again, lingering longer at the base.
His hands slid into her hair. He wasn’t exactly gentle, but he wasn’t hurting her, either. With the grace of a predator, he began to direct her against him.
Anyone else who would have dared try, she would have walked away so fast. She’d always enjoyed women over men for this. It felt so much less expected. So much less . . . dominating. Or at least that had always been her personal preference.
But with Graves, it just felt right. It was how it should be. She was not nor had she ever been a submissive woman. This didn’t feel that way. It was like he was giving her pleasure as much as taking his own.
