Authors: Kaylea Cross
She took his face in her hands, eased his head toward her. “Look at me.” He raised his reddened eyes to hers, making her heart clench. “I'm not afraid of you, just the opposite. You make me feel safe. I trust you, Rayne. I wouldn't be here with you if I didn't.” Brave words, but they were the truth and needed saying. To prove she meant them, she lifted her face and touched her lips to his, reaching out with every ounce of yearning and hope inside her.
He shuddered and an answering tremor ran through her at the anguish writhing in him, straining for an exit, for some kind of release, as if every male instinct were raging at him to lose himself in her, to burn away every ugly memory with his body. Her quickening heart answered him, urging her to offer herself to him and provide the outlet to heal them both. But not like this. First she had to help him transform the energy from desperate passion to tenderness.
She stroked her fingers through his hair and over his face, gentling him, and stood on tiptoe to press her mouth to his, letting the newfound calm inside flow through her into him. Heartbeat by heartbeat, breath by breath. His breathing eased, his hands cupping her face.
Her gaze roved from his eyes to his lips and he bent his head and kissed her quivering mouth, fueling a hunger she thought would never burn in her again. She kissed him back, hesitantly at first, then with desperate craving, her fingers tightening on his shoulders while she opened her mouth under his. He made a low sound in his throat as she struggled to get closer to him, responding almost without realizing it to the erotic glide of his tongue. All hesitation was gone, burned away by the uncontrollable wave of hunger that gripped her. When he finally pulled back she clung to him for balance, found him staring down at her in wordless awe.
Her body trembled as she struggled to contain the need pulsing inside her. God. What had she unleashed? The answering heat in his eyes made her knees tremble. A charged silence crackled between them.
As though afraid she would pull away, he wound his hands in her hair. “Do that again,” he whispered against her mouth, his heartbeat thundering against her chest.
When he kissed her again, she complied and his hands traveled over her face, her neck, her upper arms with reverence. A soft growl escaped him, making her dizzy. When his fingertips grazed the underside of her breasts, an almost accidental touch, she bit her lip and he stilled.
“It's... it's okay. I think.” What was wrong with her? They'd done this before and she'd loved it.
“You sure?” His words belied the naked longing on his face. “The worst thing we could do right now is take this too fast.”
It was all moving too fast, so what difference did it make? And in all honesty, part of her didn't want him to stop. The torment, the heat in his eyes made her heart pound. If she wanted to do this, if she wanted him, she was going to have to make the first move. Could she? What if she failed him as a woman? What if she had some awful flashback that prevented her from following through?
But this was Rayne, the only man she trusted enough to try and heal her sexual wounds. If they wound up being no more than a fling, the world wouldn't end. Life was too short, too precious to waste in fear, and she needed to find the courage to take what she wanted. And, oh, she'd never known she could want like this.
She lifted nervous fingers to the top button of his shirt and he took her hands in his. “Chris, you don't have to— ”
Yes, she did. She needed this part of her back again.
She slid the first button through its hole and moved to the next one, eyes devouring the line of skin she exposed. When they were all undone he shrugged off the shirt and raised her hands to his mouth to kiss them, sliding his tongue into the sensitive space where her fingers joined.
“Touch me,” he begged.
The starved note in his voice made something twist inside her and she splayed her hands against his chest, over his rapidly beating heart, awed by the strength of him. Taking on a life of their own, her fingers trailed over him as she'd wanted to do forever, reveling in the heat of his skin, the muscles shifting and bunching under her touch. He let her stroke him, swallowing a groan when her palms moved over his taut abdomen, grabbing them as they made their way to the waistband of his jeans.
“No,” he whispered, bending to kiss her, brushing his fingers down the nape of her neck, making her shiver. “This is going to be about you, Chris.”
She quelled the nerves leaping in her belly. It would have been easier for her if he'd let her strip all his clothes off, explore every inch of him and give him as much pleasure as she could, without the added pressure of worrying whether her body would respond to him.
Willing the apprehension to drain from her, she closed her eyes. His knuckles slipped under her shirt and grazed her spine to the small of her back, then stopped. In answer to his hesitation she grasped the lace hem of her blouse, lifting it over her head. His eyes fastened on her face while she undid her flounced skirt and let it drop to the floor. She swallowed, fought the urge to cover herself. She'd heard that men didn't notice the imperfections on a woman's naked body— they were just happy to see it naked. She hoped it was true.
“God, look at you,” he breathed, his eyes devouring her, his admiration making her feel like the most desirable woman alive.
With a groan he slid his fingers into her hair and kissed her as if he never wanted to stop. He took control smoothly, changing the rhythm of the kiss to an erotic slide and retreat of his tongue, making her strain against him with a pleading whimper.
Breaking the kiss, he moved to her jaw, licking the tender spot beneath it where her blood raced just beneath the skin. A million goose bumps broke out all over her. She gasped, neck tipping back to offer more and his hand curved around her skull to steady her as he zeroed in on the exact spot that lit her up like a Christmas tree. Head spinning, she surrendered to it, sucking a sharp breath between her teeth.
He hummed his approval against her throat, licking against the sensitive spot once more before claiming her mouth again. Then he knelt and lifted one of her feet, unbuckling the sandal and letting it drop before smoothing his hands over the arch of her foot and her ankle, up her calf to the sensitive spot at the back of her knee and along her thigh. Tiny points of fire burned where he touched. By the time he'd done the same to her other leg, she was shaking. Her body had come alive.
He grabbed a pillow for her head and guided her onto her back on the thick rug to kneel beside her, then lifted her foot again and kissed the instep. His thumbs pressed deep into the arch as his lips smoothed over the tender skin. A small gasp escaped her at the warm, ticklish sensation. Their eyes locked.
His mouth slid up her leg to her hip, pressing a kiss low on her abdomen before trailing up between her breasts to linger on the front clasp of her bra. When her eyes urged him to continue, he undid the clasp and slid the lace off her, making a murmur of need.
The first touch of his mouth made her gasp and she arched toward him, moaning at every motion of his tongue, her body taut beneath him. He took his time, caressing and laving her until she trembled again. Urgency clawed at her. Gasping for air, she reared up to grab his shoulders and drag him down on top of her, desperate to feel his weight. Rayne complied, rolling to press a muscular thigh between hers, mouth still licking and nibbling with a torturous lack of haste.
She almost sobbed at the feel of him pressed between her legs, bucking helplessly to try and relieve the terrible pressure. All too soon he pulled back, mouth swallowing her incoherent words of protest and replacing his thigh with his hips, rocking his rigid body against her. Mindless, she cried out and wrapped her legs around him, the ache intensifying to an unbearable pitch. He did it again, that slow drag of his hips against her until she thought she'd die. His lips moving over her face, she barely heard his murmur of reassurance as he lifted his weight off her.
She wanted to weep. “No— ”
“Shhh. I'm not going anywhere.”
His hands moved downward, brushing over the scrap of lace between her thighs. Her hips lifted toward him in a silent plea. She looked at him kneeling there in front of her, still in his jeans, the muscles in his arms and chest flexing as he touched her. He was so erotic and gorgeous part of her thought she must be dreaming. And she wanted him naked and inside of her, now. But when she reached for him, he pulled away.
“No.”
“I want— ”
“Shh. I know. Just let me take care of you.” At her tacit consent he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her panties and tugged them down. She jerked at the touch of cool air between her thighs.
Icy gray eyes speared her mind. Her skin shrank away from the cold scrape of the knife as it sliced through her underwear. She went rigid, commanding herself to breathe, erasing the image, refusing to let the nightmarish specter take this precious moment from her. Rayne had gone still, watching her face.
“Want me to stop?” His hands framed her face, his shadowed eyes searching hers. “Tell me, darlin', I don't want to scare you.”
The sweet concern in his voice helped ground her. Her body throbbed painfully. “I want this. I want you to help me do this.” Maybe after this first time it would be easier.
She held her breath, reached out her arms when he stretched out beside her, heat sizzling through her veins at the skin-on-skin contact. She let him roll her onto her back and glide his hands over her breasts and quivering stomach, down the inner edge of her thighs, burying her head into his shoulder and biting her lip at the throbbing ache between her legs. His warm, gentle hands built the heat high enough to melt her fears.
“You're so beautiful,” he murmured, nuzzling the curve of one breast as his fingers circled the skin of her thigh. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders and ever so slowly he moved inward, back and forth in a tantalizing motion until she parted her legs. He brushed against her, absorbing the jolt that went through her.
Burying his face in her hair, a growl reverberated through him. “God... you're drenched.” The last word sounded strangled.
She felt so slick and soft beneath his touch that she whimpered, and he eased one finger into her, her body arcing of its own accord. The bubble of panic rose; she forced it down. What if she took too long? Would he become bored and frustrated, like Cameron had?
“Nice and slow,” he coaxed, soothing and reassuring her even as he pushed her toward the edge. “Don't think, just feel.”
She concentrated on the dark velvet of his voice, the tingling sensation elusive at first, then stronger. The tension built with every motion of his hand and she stiffened, fearing it would surge and then leave her stranded, half crazy. He swirled his fingertips over her most sensitive spot and she cried out, nestling her face against him. “Rayne— ”
“Shhh, trust me.”
She continued to hide and he allowed her the privacy, kissing the side of her face as he stroked her. He cuddled her close while the bursting pressure grew, drinking in each broken moan with his mouth as her breathing became shallow. Watching her face, he slid two fingers back in and rubbed a highly sensitized spot inside her.
It felt so good— so incredibly good. She arched into him and squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh, God.” She was going to explode.
“There?” he asked as he repeated the mind-blowing movement, his thumb gliding over her swollen flesh.
She moaned and clutched at him, trembling and straining into his touch.
“Oh, yeah. That's it. That is
so
it.”
Pleasure swelled to an unbearable tension until she wanted to sob. Instinctively, she fought it, afraid of losing control.
He bent his head and licked her nipple, swirling and suckling until she cried out and convulsed beneath him, a wail keening from her throat. “Shhh. I won't stop.”
The soft vow pierced her, made the pleasure bloom so hugely that she couldn't hold back and the orgasm swept through her, bowing her up against his strength as he anchored her.
He made a growl of satisfaction deep in his chest and held her while the last tremors subsided, then cradled her head on his shoulder. She lay there for a while, her mind wiped clean. When she was able to move again, she leaned up to kiss him, sated and dreamy.
“I guess my body still works after all,” she mused, her fingers outlining his face. Before he could reply she kissed him again, sliding her hand down to his jeans. The next move had never felt so instinctive. “My turn.”
He swallowed as her fingers slid under his waistband, making his stomach muscles contract. “Only if you want to.” His voice was rough.
“I want to.” Not only had he given her more pleasure than she'd thought possible, he'd also made her feel secure and resurrected her self-esteem. Now she wanted to express herself by loving him the way he'd loved her. If she remembered how to do it right, she thought with a hard swallow.
She popped the button and tugged his jeans down his legs, then knelt and slid her palm over him. He hissed in a breath but remained still, and she reveled in her feminine power. She might be inexperienced, but she knew at least one way to please him. She drew his boxers down and held him between her hands, savoring his heat, the softness of the skin overlying his hard length.
He tensed. “God.”
She rose on her knees and watched his face as she stroked him, tension creeping into his jaw and shoulder muscles. His hand wrapped around her fist, squeezing tighter, then slid up over her thigh to grip her hip as she continued the movement. She loved how he laid there so quietly, stretched out and utterly at ease with giving her control of his body, his eyes glittering up at her with unsuppressed need. She explored him, following every cue he gave her with his responses and his molten gaze. She wanted to draw the pleasure out, make him writhe.
With a growl he grabbed her hands but she ignored him, bending over him to press her breasts to his naked chest while nibbling her way up his throat to his jaw, licking her way into his mouth. “Wait,” he gasped between kisses and closed his eyes, jaw rigid. “Slow down, honey.” She did, wanting to make it last, kept on stroking him until he was shaking. Rearing up with a gasped curse, he gripped handfuls of her hair and kissed her until he collapsed with a shudder of ecstasy. “Chris... ”