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And he wasn’t going to hesitate to get started.
Peeling her hands from his shoulders, he stepped back. There was color on her face, and her mouth was as rosy as he planned to make her nipples. His eyes on hers, he brought her fingers to his lips and ran his tongue along her knuckles.
“You’re cold,” he said, taking in their icy temperature.
Her breath hitched again. “Nerves.”
The word tightened down his control. While the thug inside of him clamored for sex as quick and dirty as a street-fight, Noah wrapped the urge in strong, thick chains. From the size of Juliet’s dark pupils and the continued tremor in her limbs, he figured he could take her down as fast as he wanted, but with only this one shot to have her, he knew he better savor it.
Oh, yeah, he was going to go so slow, inch-by-silken-inch, that she’d never realize how much of her she let him have, touch, taste.
He kissed the back of her hands. “I know a way to warm you up.”
“I should wash the salt and sand away,” she said quickly, looking down at her feet, still in rubber-soled flip-flops.
“Just what I had in mind,” he answered. “Shower or bath?”
A flush rose on her cheeks. “Not…”
“Together?” he kept his tone mild and tried to put out of his head all the questions starting to gather there. When was the last time Juliet had had sex? Had she ever stepped into a shower or slid into a bathtub with a man? And how slow could he take it if he had her naked and slippery and slick with soap? “We’re in California, right? Shouldn’t we be doing our part for water conservation?”
Biting her bottom lip, her head bobbed and then she let him lead her toward the master bedroom suite. Morning had finally found its way to Malibu, and sunshine poured like transparent gold paint through the trio of arched windows in the hallway and onto the hardwood floor.
“It’s awfully bright,” she worried aloud. “Maybe we should wait…maybe tonight…”
When there was darkness to hide behind, he finished for her.
His hand tightened on hers. “It’s a new day, Juliet.” This day that he thought was his, had become theirs. It’s our day. “And unless you’ve changed your mind—”
“No.”
“Then it’s like I already told you, honey. I’m no gentleman.” He gave her a wolfish grin and wiggled his eyebrows. “Your modesty doesn’t stand a chance against my wicked ways.”
She laughed like he wanted her, too, and it got them to the bedroom. On moving day, self-preservation had mandated he avoid any space so personal to her, and now he took in the pale walls and amber area rug as well as the queen-sized bed with its vanilla-colored bedclothes.
Juliet halted, staring at it with a frown.
Noah swallowed his groan. It was going to kill him if she balked now. If she tried, swear to God, he was going to summon every touch he knew, every technique he’d ever tried, to seduce her back into the mood. He did know there was a big whirlpool tub in the attached bath, and he could already see both of them inside of it, bubbles up to her breasts, his hand sneaking beneath the camouflage of the frothy stuff to explore the soft layers of her sex.
Yeah, it was going to take an agony of persuasion, he figured, an hour of kisses and surreptitious touches to get her there, but he would. He wanted it that bad.
Taking a careful breath, he squeezed her hand again. “Juliet? Okay?”
She glanced at him, and then around the spacious room. “It’s just so…so beige.”
Noah blinked at the disgust in her voice. “And, um…”
Um what? “And?”
She dropped his hand. “And I’m sick of it.” In a sudden flurry of movement, she spun to face the massive mirror hanging over a long chest of drawers crafted from some light-colored wood. “And look there,” she said, pointing to herself in that white sweatsuit. “More colorlessness.”
Without a pause, she reached down and whipped her sweatshirt over her head. “I never want to see myself in these again.” She threw the top across the room. Then she shoved down the pants and flung them away with her foot, one flip-flop going along for the ride. The other she tossed, too, and it thunked against the wall, marring the pristine paint.
She stared at the mark, her chest heaving again, and it gave him time to appreciate the underwear. She was wearing a matching—and demure—lace bra and bikini panties in an understated buff color.
He toyed with mentioning it, certain they’d be the next victims of her unexpected ire, but he wanted to save some unwrapping for himself. His mind spun off, thinking how best to accomplish that. Should he ease up behind her right now, or lure her into the bathroom? How many kisses until he could walk his fingers to the back clasp of that bra? Would he slide her panties off at the first opportunity, or instead slip his hands underneath the stretchy fabric to cup her sweet little ass?
