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“I thought about you a lot, too,” she confessed in a whisper, stroking her hands down his strong back and over his firm buttocks.
Somehow, he made her feel both delicate and vulnerable but safe. He was proprietary in the way he inserted his legs between hers, effortlessly pushing hers open in a demonstration of how much strength he had—plenty enough to overpower her if he wanted to. But the way he kissed her was a coax.
Let me in. Come with me down this erotic path.
And he went down an erotic path of his own, one that took him over the hills of her breasts and across the field of her abdomen, then into the grove between her thighs.
“You don’t have to—” She was already aroused enough, but her voice turned to a moan of indulgence.
“I really do,” he said in a low voice, bringing his thumb into play with his tongue.
Fliss couldn’t talk after that. All her brain cells were fried by the lazy way he was pulling her toward orgasm again, coiling sensation upon sensation until she was at the tipping point.
“Not yet, lovely,” he said, lifting his head and stroking his thumb in the moisture of her folds, avoiding where she most needed to be caressed. “Wait for me.”
He set his teeth against her inner thigh just tight enough to threaten pain, then sucked a love bite onto her skin. The discomfort drew her back from the edge but made her sob in denial.
“Soon,” he crooned, climbing his wicked mouth over the wobbling muscles of her belly and pausing to worship her breasts once more. The inferno in her loins grew to an ache she couldn’t bear.
“You’re mean,” she accused, so tense with need she thought she’d break in half.
“So mean,” he agreed, taking his time with departing from her nipples before he finally, finally rose over her and guided himself to the molten core of her. “I’m going to savor this,” he said in sinful warning. “But let me feel it, Fliss. Let me feel you come as many times as you can.”
She was still very much out of her league, she realized in those seconds. Not just at his mercy, but willing to do anything for him. For this, the press of his thick shape sinking into her primed, welcoming sheath. Glorious shivers of near climax sent hot-cold sensations across her skin. Her knees bent to hug his sides and her heels dug into his ass, pressing him deeper.
Saint began to move, slow and deep and powerful, and it was all she needed. She twisted beneath him as orgasm detonated within her. Wild noises left her. Breath and thought and any sense of self were all gone in those moments of pure pleasure. Pure being.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, sounding barely affected despite destroying her. He continued moving in those precise but leisurely thrusts. “Now another,” he commanded, hooking his arm behind her knee to increase the depth of his possession.
She gave him everything he asked for.
“I don’t want earrings,” Fliss murmured through the dark, hours later, when they were exhausted and damp and drifting off to sleep.
Saint had her spooned into his front. He roused slightly, his ingrained cynicism thinking,Here we go.
“What would you prefer?”
“Respect.” She sighed and snuggled deeper into his chest. Her hand slid to cover the one he had draped over her waist and grew heavy.
Seconds later, he could tell by the shallowness of her breathing that she was deeply asleep, but he was wide awake, blinking into the darkness, aware of the white noise of the plane’s engines and an itch against his conscience.
He had told her he was a generous person, and he was, in a material sense. He could afford to be. But it could actually be argued that it wasn’t generosity when the cost to him was very low. On a more emotional level, he was much more miserly. He had built thick, jaded boundaries around himself. Any respect he offered was conditional. Tentative. Everyone would disappoint him eventually. It was not a matter of if but when.
Fliss was authentically generous, though. Considering how she’d been treated in the past and then Saint’s neglect of her when she’d been attacked by the press, she would have been within her rights to help him exit the plane without a parachute. It made her openness and lack of inhibition in this bed even more of a gift.
The abuse she’d suffered—and yes, it was abuse—incensed him. On top of that, he was disturbed to realize how little experience she really had with relationships. She needed more than respect. She needed to be handled with tenderness.
He didn’t have a capacity for that. Inadequacy chipped at him as he recognized howhewas likely to disappointher. In his mind, the baby had been the one who needed his protection. Fliss would provide the love their child needed, and Saint would try not to be the same sort of cold bastard his own father had been. Somehow, they would rear a contributing member of society.
Fliss was more vulnerable than he’d realized, though. It was hitting him that she would need more from him than orgasms and an introduction to some top designers. She would need things he might not have within him to give.
Maybe he shouldn’t marry her. He might’ve regarded love as a drug that wore off and left you with a horrific hangover, but she seemed to believe in it. She’d thought his parents should have divorced so they could find it.
That meant that at some point, she might expect him to let her go so she could marry someone else who—
The clench of rejection was so strong inside him, he twitched, causing her to drew a small, startled breath.
“It’s okay. Go back to sleep,” he whispered, securing her closer while pressing a kiss to the point of her shoulder.
