Chapter Sixteen
He led her up the stairs to his bedroom. He didn’t want to. The second they stepped into his foyer, the second the door closed behind them, he wanted to take her there and then. Wanted to press her to the wall and make her his forever.
Restraining himself was the hardest thing he’d ever done.
Holding her hand, he climbed the stairs. He didn’t speak. Neither did she. It was as if they were both moved by the significance of what was to come. They’d had sex more than once since she’d entered his life, but this…
Making love. That’s what he’d called it. Not worshipping her body, or fucking her senseless, or any of the numerous flippant and coarse terms he’d used previously. Making love.
The two words had passed his lips and his heart had smashed into his throat. And she’d said okay and everything changed, right there and then.
Everything.
He’d tried to analyze it, to comprehend the ethereal, intangible weight of his words and her response as they’d walked back to his home, but his mind couldn’t snag it. Whatever had changed between them, it was eluding him.
He didn’t care. Not at all.
Why would he? When the change brought with it such a sense of…of…rightness.
Reaching the top of the stairs, he paused for a moment. Long enough for Mila to squeeze his hand.
“Is everything okay?”
“Everything is the way it is meant to be.”
She frowned at his cheesy statement. “And yet…we are standing still when we could be in your room. On your bed.”
Her observation—blunt and straightforward—made him chuckle. “I was wondering if you’d freak out if I blindfolded you.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Well, I did say we needed to do more things blindfolded on our second d…night out together.”
“Were you going to say date?”
A delightful pink filled her cheeks. “A slip of the tongue.”
He drew her to him with a gentle tug on her hand. “I like how your tongue slips.”
She laughed, the sound soft and almost shy. “Do you now?”
He nodded, fascinated by her lips. Damn, they were exquisitely formed. “I also like the idea of taking you on a date. A proper one. I think I need to do that.”
“Take me on a date?” The question left her on a shaky breath.
He nodded again, smoothing his other hand over her hip to the small of her back. “Dinner, a movie, or maybe a show on Broadway, and then drinks and dancing at Provocateur.”
“Or we could just order in Thai, have a carpet picnic, and watch something on Netflix?”
A rush of warmth flowed through him and he smiled. “That sounds even bet—”
She kissed him, her lips at once confident and teasing.
He growled into her mouth, balling the back of her shirt in his fist as he pressed his hips to hers and walked her backward into his room.
Sparks of heat and sensation rippled over his nerve endings. She tangled her hands in his hair, her steps in sync with his until the bed halted their movement.
With a laughing moan, she tumbled backward onto the mattress, taking him with her.
He covered her body with his and settled between her thighs, the warmth of her sex pressed to his groin making his head swim. Would he ever tire of the delicious contact? He doubted it.
Moving his lips over her jaw and up to her ear, he nipped her lobe. “I’m addicted to you, my muse.”
She rolled her hips, her heat radiating into his jeans’ trapped length, and raked her fingers up his back, over his shoulders. “I’m off the clock.”
“Then I am addicted to you, my Mila.”
Her soft laugh vibrated through him. “You are all about the possessive pronoun, St. Clair.” Her fingers traced a path over the back of his neck and up into his hair again.
“When it comes to you, I’m very possessive.” He nipped her earlobe again and then nibbled a path down the column of her throat. “And insatiable.”
“And talkative, it seems.”
“Is that your subtle way of telling me to hurry up and undress you?”
She chuckled. “Yes. And this is my not-so-subtle way. Hurry up and undress me, Thomas.”
“Done.”
He removed her clothes, exploring every inch of smooth skin he revealed with his lips and tongue and teeth.
“Your tongue is incredible,” she moaned as he licked her newly uncovered folds with deliberately slow swipes.
“Just my tongue?” He slipped a finger inside her, stroking the sweetest spot on her inner walls.
She whimpered, eyes closed, hands balling the duvet.
He lowered his head and flicked his tongue over her clit, teasing the tiny sensitive button of nerves as he moved his finger quickly inside her.
Her hips bucked upward. “I’m going…I’m going…” She shuddered, her words dissolving into moans.
He lost himself in the pleasure of her release until she cried out his name and came again.
Body thrumming, he rose up, skimming his palms over the curves and dips of her torso. “Is it wrong to say how much I get off on the sounds you make when I make you come?”
Her eyes fluttered open, and she let out a husky laugh. “I don’t care if it is.”
He smiled.
“You’re preening, St. Clair.”
“Don’t fucking care.”
“Good.” She bent her knees and planted the soles of her feet on his chest. “Now get your clothes off so I can make love to you.”
He laughed, allowing her to push him backward onto his haunches. “Ah, you think you’re in charge right now, babe? No way. That was just foreplay.”
Her breasts rose as she pulled in a deep breath. She licked her lips. “You have an insane idea of foreplay.”
He climbed off the bed, snagged her right ankle, and spread her legs wider. “I’m a high achiever myself, Mila. When it comes to making you come, twice is not even close to enough.”
A hitching whimper fell from her.
“Don’t move.” He released her ankle, tracing his fingertip up the inside of her leg as he moved along the side of the bed.
“Why not?”
His cock pulsed at her playful challenge.
“Because if you move, I won’t get my favorite tie.”
She frowned. “I don’t…”
He chuckled. “To blindfold you.”
Her eyebrows lifted.
He brushed the tip of her right nipple with his fingers. “We can go shopping for actual blindfolds tomorrow if you like. Velvet ones, or leather, if you prefer. For now…we improvise.”
…
Stomach fluttering, breath shallow, Mila swallowed.
Letting Thomas blindfold her as he made love to her? To remove one of her senses, to hand over that kind of control…
A tight heat twisted through her very core, and a liquid pulse throbbed in her sex. Hell, had she ever been more aroused?
At the side of the bed, Thomas studied her, his expression unreadable. “If you don’t want me to, I won’t. I know it’s a big step. Lots of trust involved. If you’d rather I just—”
She drew a slow breath and met his gaze. “Blindfold me, Thomas.”
His chest heaved as he walked to his closet.
She closed her eyes and opened them again a few seconds later when his fingers whispered over her hipbone.
He held up a black silk tie shot through with vibrant purple. “Are you sure?”
Without a word, she repositioned herself on her knees facing him, removed her glasses and tossed them aside, and then closed her eyes. “Is this answer enough?”
His low chuckle played with her senses a heartbeat before the cool silk of his tie pressed to her eyelids.
Light disappeared as Thomas knotted the tie behind her head with gentle pressure.
A ripple of anticipation sank into the pit of her stomach. Her nipples hardened.
She waited, balancing on the cusp. The soft rustle of fabric against fabric quickened her breath.
Was he undressing? Her mouth grew dry as she drew her mental gaze over his body, his broad shoulders, muscular form, lean hips, and corded thighs. Her fingers tingled with the need to skim over the dark hair on his wide chest, up his neck, along his square jaw and its dark stubble. What did it mean she could picture him perfectly without looking at him?
You know what it means.
Ignoring her own mocking rebuke, she drew a slow breath. His distinct scent teased her, her body responding. She pulled a deeper breath even as every nerve ending sparked and charged, waiting for his touch.
It came, surprising her. A gentle cool stream of air down the side of her neck.
A shiver rippled through her, and she let out a hitching noise.
The cool air moved over her breasts, her nipples, to her belly. Lower.
She swayed toward the gentle stream, reaching for his head blindly.
“No, no,” he admonished with a low laugh. “No touching. No cheating.”
She groaned. Or maybe she growled. Was it possible to be turned on by the anticipation even as she was impatient with it? “Hurry up.”
He laughed again, the sound close to her left ear. “Bossy much?”
Before she could respond, he nipped at the top of her shoulder and then kissed the spot with tender suction.
Another shiver claimed her, this one sending a finger of tight heat into her very center.
For a silent moment—a heartbeat? A minute? A lifetime?—there was nothing, and then his lips charted a path down over her rib cage to the curve of her hip, his hands feathering over her breasts, her butt.
“Oh, Thomas…” His name turned to a ragged sigh as he closed his mouth over her right nipple and sucked gently on it.
She reached for him again, tangling her fingers in his hair.
With a gentle pop, he released her nipple and snared her wrists in his hands. “If you must cheat,” he murmured in her ear, the heat from his body seeping into hers, “if you must touch, then touch properly.”
He moved her right hand from his hair, down over his bare chest, abs…and lower. Her heart slammed faster at the knowledge he was, indeed, as naked as she was.
As aroused as she was.
His hard length pressed to her palm and, without hesitation, she closed her fingers around its impressive girth.
“Hmmm, how can such a simple act feel so fucking good?” His breath fanned her collarbone a second before his lips replaced it.
A smile curled the edges of her lips. “I’d say you’re putty in my hands, St. Clair, but there is nothing pliant or soft about what I’m holding right now.”
He moaned. “Goddamn, I love your wit, your brain, just as much as I…”
He didn’t finish. Good thing? Bad? She didn’t care. Not at that moment. Not when his lips were nibbling at her throat the way they were, wicked little bites that sent pleasure shearing through her.
She squeezed his shaft, her sex contracting at its solid, engorged heat. How soon before it was embedded deep within her, propelling her closer and closer to another orgasm with each sublime thrust?
Not soon enough.
“Thomas…” She tightened her other hand in his hair. “I need you inside me. Now.”
He released her nipple, kissing and biting his way up to her ear. “Not yet.”
He stepped backward, groaning as she instinctually gripped his cock with more pressure a second before letting him slip free of her fingers.
“Damn you,” she complained, aching for him.
He chuckled. From a few feet away. And behind her.
She turned, seeking him out with the senses not deprived of her.
The sound of a drawer opening danced in the air, followed by the faint crinkle of a packet.
Liquid heat flowed into her sex. Condom packet.
Soon.
The mattress dipped and suddenly warm lips journeyed up the back of her right thigh, over the curve of her right butt cheek, up the line of her spine.
She trembled and then gasped as sure fingers parted her folds from behind and dipped into her wet entry.
“Oh God.” She leaned back into his body, rolling her head as he captured her breast with his other hand.
“Gods,” he corrected against the side of her neck, his fingers slowly inching deeper into her. “The writing gods—plural, no capital—are to be praised and worshipped for bringing you to me.”
She let out a low laugh and hissed in a breath as he pinched her nipple.
And then he was gone again, leaving her straining for his touch, his kiss…
A hot tongue traced over her stomach and then her nipples. She moaned, almost undone. Where would he lick and bite her next?
Fingers skimmed and feathered over her shoulders, down the length of her arms. He returned her hand to his length, his grip loose on her wrist as she pumped and explored his hard flesh. Her sex constricted with impatient need and realization as her thumb encountered the tiny bead of moisture anointing the crown of his erection.
No condom. Not yet.
How incredible would it be to have him sink into her without it? Flesh sliding against flesh? With nothing separating them?
That’s a dangerous thought. Too dangerous. Too intimate. Too enticing.
Another cool stream of breath travelled up her throat, her cheek, before he captured her lips with his.
She surrendered to the kiss, to him.
When he gently pressed her to her back on the bed, his solid length nudging at her folds, his hands palming her breast and gripping her hip, she could barely think. She was overwhelmed by pleasure and anticipation.
“Please, Thomas.” Was that her begging?
Once again, the mattress shifted as he moved off her and the bed.
Her breath quickened at the sound of the condom packet tearing. With his teeth?
Warm, firm hands smoothed up the inside of her calves, her thighs. She shivered, body thrumming. “Please put me out of my misery, St. Clair.”
He laughed. “Oh well, seeing as you asked so nicely…”
The mattress dipped a second before his sublime body nestled against hers.
Oh yes.
The round head of his erection parted her sex as he drew her knee up toward her ribs with a gentle but firm hand. “I’m going to bury myself inside you now, babe. But I need to look into your eyes while I do so.”
Too intimate. Too personal. Too dangerous.
“Please?”
She arched beneath him, craving what was about to happen. What she couldn’t deny. “Yes. I want that as well.”
He tugged his tie from her eyes, cupped the side of her face in his hand, and—gaze holding hers—sank completely into her with one fluid stroke.
Connected. In every way, on every level.
Moving as one, in perfect rhythm, in perfect harmony.
And when she orgasmed a third time, undone by the sheer pleasure he gave her, he came with her. Holding her. Moaning her name. Telling her over and over with each powerful thrust, she was his, she was his, she was his.
It was incredible. Sublime. Beautiful.
If only his declaration could, one day, be true.
If only.