Page 67 of Watching Her

As he’d done before, he took a deep breath, but there was more weight to his simple action. He wasn’t just sizing me up. He was providing the final opportunity to break free of his spell.

Or perhaps I should call it his curse.

I had no intention of going anywhere.

He closed the distance and when he was standing right in front of me, he cupped the side of my face. The hold was gentle where it had been so possessive before, caressing my skin as he peered down at me. I had no clue what he was thinking, but in the reflected light, his eyes no longer held the amazing shimmer of silver as usual.

They were several shades darker. As if the man had shifted into an alternate personality.

“So beautiful,” he said. They were dark and almost angry words.

I found myself quivering more than before. Was I suddenly worried about proving myself? That was silly. We wouldn’t be here if that was necessary.

“What do you want, Penelope?”

“That’s a loaded question.”

“The first word that comes to mind.”

“That’s easy. Everything. I want everything.”

And I did. Every emotion. Every fear. Every indulgence. All the hard work and all the pain. All the tears. All the joys. I wanted it all.

He lowered his head until our lips were almost touching, still stroking my skin with the gentleness of a giant. “Then that’s what you will have. Everything.”

I expected he’d join me on the couch, but he had something else in mind.

Suddenly, the world tilted all around me. His arms locked securely beneath my knees and back, he lifted me effortlessly. As he moved away from the piece of furniture, it felt as if I’d fallen directly into a scene from one of the many romance books I’d read. However, there was a distinct difference other than with him being gorgeous flesh and blood.

It felt as if this was just the beginning, yet of nothing one would consider traditional.

It was that strange sense of knowing, of accepting whatever we were sharing had no true boundaries that both excited and kept me on edge.

I instinctively looped my arms around his neck, burying my face into the crook of his shoulder. The steady, rhythmic thud of his heart against my cheek instantly quieted my racing thoughts. As he carried me through the doorway, the musky, warm scent of him enveloped me. The electric sensations weren’t just about being carried. It was about the quiet certainty in his stride that made me feel completely safe letting go of control.

A tiny part of me wanted to confess he didn’t need to be so romantic, but why would I do that? Why would I ever toss aside what came naturally to him and what I so richly deserved?

Evidently a certain level of prima donna existed within me.

The views were just as spectacular in the bedroom of the suite, perhaps even more so given the corner location. With the blinds and drapes wide open, both the shimmering of the moon and the waterfront accent lights provided enough light that no other was needed.

His eyes never left mine as he approached the bed, yanking down the covers while keeping me nestled against the electric heat of his body.

When he eased me onto the center of the sheets, he did so with such precision and such distinct timing I wasn’t certain what to think. Very few men would ever consider going to all this trouble, which added to my theory there was more to this.

As if an experiment of some kind or perhaps testing my resolve.

The craziness of my thoughts wasn’t easy to shove aside, especially as he fanned my hair on the pillow, creating a halo. There was nothing ominous about his actions, but butterflies had already formed in my stomach.

Maybe I was fearful I was enjoying a luscious dream, soon to wake up.

He took his time to remove his watch while still standing over me, placing it just so on the nightstand. When he climbed onto the bed, his actions reminded me of a predator stalking his prey. I lifted my arms, bending them at the elbow while he used his knee to push my legs further apart.

With both hands beside me near mine, he leaned over inch by inch, leaving me holding my breath. When he brushed his lips across mine, I arched my back, my involuntary eagerness rewarded with a dark chuckle.

Christian took his time kissing my lips only without using his tongue. The act left me aching all over. For him. For all of him. I was shocked that he was already hard again, but there was no denying him.

Unable to resist, I placed the tips of my fingers against his chest, marveling at how the heat shared between us seared my skin.