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My goal was to strip as quickly as possible and slip under the covers, preferably before Jasper changed his mind about bedding a whale.
He had other ideas. He sat on the bed, tugged me closer, held my face with both hands, and resumed his kiss. God. The man could kiss. He must have felt the moment when I capitulated and relaxed, because he smiled against my lips. “That clever brain of yours is working too hard. Stay with me, Caitlin.”
Even the way he said my name was delicious. He made it sound pretty. Hell, I almost felt pretty. Almost. There was still the matter of my robust-but-ugly bra and non-matching panties. When I dressed this morning, getting laid was the last thing on my mind. I bet his ex always wore matching underwear. Or no underwear at all. And she’d have a Brazilian, while I had a rainforest.
“I wasn’t expecting this,” I blurted, and he paused.
“We don’t have to do anything. If you’ve changed your mind—”
“No. I mean, I haven’t.” I sighed. English was not my friend at the moment. I grabbed my dwindling courage with a sense of desperation. “I want this, Jasper.” I croaked his name and tried again, falling back on blunt honesty. “I don’t want to disappoint you. I don’t think I’m very good at sex.”
An array of emotions flickered over his face, but he continued to gaze into my eyes. “Give me your hand,” he said.
Puzzled, I complied, and he tangled our fingers together.
He guided our linked hands to his crotch and pressed my palm against the zipper of his jeans. Wow. He was hard.
“Does this feel like I’m disappointed?” He spoke in a husky whisper, and my heart melted. “I’m worried about letting you down. You’re not the only one who feels a bit nervous,” he said.
I couldn’t help laughing. “What could you possibly be nervous about?” He raised an eyebrow, but I continued. “You’re fit and sexy and—well—hot.”
“You think I’m hot, huh?” Amusement lined his words. “That’s cool, but you haven’t seen my leg yet. The scars from my accident.”
I scoffed. “I’m not so shallow, to be put off by that.”
“I’m glad. So why d’you think I’d be?” He squeezed my hand where it rested against his jeans. “I’m wearing a brace on my leg, and it’s ugly underneath that. I’m kinda glad the lights are low. You might take one look and run away screaming.
“I wouldn’t.”
“And neither would I. ‘Kay?”
If only it were that easy, but I’d try. I wanted things to be different with Jasper, and that led me to another thought. I was usually the passive one in bed, but tonight I wanted to be an equal partner. And if Jasper was being honest about his nerves, I could reassure him.
I tried a smile. It was wobbly at the edges, but almost there. “Can I see your ink?”
“Which bit?”
My dream roared back in glorious technicolor. He didn’t really have an ivy spiral down to his cock? “Umm... all of it?”
“Sure. But for every piece of clothing I take off, you lose one too.” His grin teased me. “Hey. We came in here for warmth. Not fair for me to get hypothermia, while you stay dressed,” he said.
“You first.”
He nodded, reached behind him, and yanked the T-shirt over his head in that odd way guys do. His arm muscles flexed, and then there was just his bare chest.
His beautiful, toned abs deserved better lighting for me to examine them by. A dark fuzz led down into a very happy trail, and I concentrated on lifting my gaze, to look at his tattoos. He had monochrome armbands inked around both biceps—maybe a mixture of Celtic and Maori? I looked closer. They were different from each other. Feeling braver, I stroked the patterns in turn, enjoying the feel of his warm skin.
“Do they mean anything?” I asked.
“They’re memorials. My father on the right and Mum on the left.”
I met his gaze. “They’re incredible.”
“Thank you. And now it’s your turn.”
I wore a loose-fitting T-shirt with three small buttons down the front. Playing for time, I unfastened them, and then tugged the fabric up and over my head. I bunched the shirt in my fist and held it in front of me, like a shield, searching Jasper’s face.
He slowly moved my hand away. My shield was gone. Hello, ugly bra. From the thick shoulder-straps to the plain cups, it screamed boring. Utilitarian. No pretty little wisps of silk and lace for me. My definition of designer underwear came from specialist mail-order websites, and I hadn’t ordered any for a long time.
“Mmmm. I likey.” He sounded genuine.
I watched, astonished and excited when he cupped the girls gently and trailed his thumbs over the white fabric. I didn’t have the foresight to wear black, but Jasper didn’t seem to care.
“I need a taste,” he said, lifting his hands to the straps. He slid them down my arms, and then carefully folded the cup fabric down, to reveal my nipples. They were on board with the plan, shamelessly pert and begging for him. I squirmed, impatient. A heartbeat later, he dropped his head and flicked one bud with his tongue. An electric shock zinged through me, but that was nothing to how it felt when he closed his mouth around it.
My nipples were always sensitive, and I was in heaven. A flick, then a rasp of teeth, before licking away the burn. I tangled my fingers in his hair. I needed to hold onto something, otherwise I’d slide off the bed. Jesus. I whimpered from the overload of sheer pleasure a second before he lifted his head and focused his attention on the other bud. I moaned, unable to keep quiet, and Jasper made a humming noise. I felt it through his lips.
Could I come just from this? Was that possible? I wasn’t on familiar terms with orgasms. We’d made acquaintance a couple of times, when I was drunk and forgot to care how I looked, but they usually hovered out of reach. Something skinny girls had regularly.
“Hey. Come back.” Jasper’s words were muffled against my skin. “You overthinking again?”
He was right. He was with me. He wanted me, even if only for tonight. I could either enjoy the moment or second-guess his every touch.
“I’m here,” I said. “And it’s your turn to take something off.”