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Chapter Nine
Dalton kicked open the door to his bedroom and strode through it. He carried Anya as if she were a little child. She knew how much she weighed, and she was no small girl. She was slightly overweight, but the way he marched with her in his arms had her feeling tiny and petite.
He laid her down on the bed and sat on the edge. She watched him turn the light on, then he focused his attention on her.
He reached for her and cupped her cheek in his hand. “You are so beautiful.”
“It took you long enough to notice.” She snorted.
He leaned in close, his lips barely brushing hers. “You were a kid then.”
“I’m all woman now,” she whispered.
She was mesmerized by the way his hair fell into his eyes. He brushed it back and gave her one of his sexy grins.
“Oh, I know. Now come here.” He untucked her towel from around her and pulled. “It’s time for round two.”
“Already?” she gasped.
Dalton stood from the bed, and her gaze dropped down to the erection tenting his towel.
“Cheese and crackers,” she whispered to herself.
Even when she and Glenn had been on good terms, he was never ready to go immediately.
She bit her lip, the pain reminding her that she should not be thinking of her ex while she had Dalton removing his towel in front of her.
She couldn’t help but stare at his cock.
It was a magnificent one, long, thick, and currently hard.
She ran a shaky hand through her hair.
“You’ve already made me climax twice. I don’t think I can,” Anya whimpered. That in itself was an accomplishment. She had always thought herself as a one-orgasm-at-a-time girl, but Dalton blew through that theory.
“Issuing a challenge, are we?” Dalton pushed his hair back from his face and grinned.
“I’m just saying, in the past—”
“I don’t want to hear about the past,” he growled. He rounded the bed and knelt on it. The mattress dipped from his weight.
She turned and watched him wrap his hand around her ankles and pull her down on the bed.
“Open your legs, Anya.”
“But, Dalton, I seriously don’t think—”
“Open. Them.”
Her stomach quivered. What if she couldn’t come again? She didn’t want to be a disappointment in his eyes that she couldn’t keep up with him sexually.
His strong hands coasted up her calves. He was a man who worked with his hands, making them callused. A shiver worked its way down her spine at the sensation of his rough hands along her smooth skin.
Her legs automatically fell apart, leaving her open to him.
She would have felt exposed, but for some reason, with Dalton it felt natural—as if he belonged there.
Her heart pounded as his hands slid farther up her thighs. He knelt between her legs while he ran a hand along her skin.
