Blind Attraction (18 page)

S
eemingly oblivious to the fact that she was playing the piano at his request, he whispered, his breath hot against her ear and sending pleasurable chills down her spine, “What kind of underwear are you wearing?”

“A pink thong,” she gasped as his fingers brushed the inside of her thigh
, inching tantalizingly closer to the center of her femininity.

“Your skin is so smooth,” he
crooned, lightly caressing the soft flesh near her sex. Heat poured from her body as he slid a finger beneath the flimsy excuse for panties, touching the damp warmth of her core, running his finger over the seam of her sex. Her breathing was shallow and rapid, and her feminine musk strengthened. Even as he touched her, though, her fingers didn’t falter. In fact, her playing swelled with passion.

Heat radiated outwards from where his fingers caressed and she fought to keep her eyes open. Then he was kissing her neck and in spite of years of study, she began to rush through one of her favorite pieces hoping for it to end. Whatever
maidenly reserves she had about having sex vanished; she wanted him. Desperately.

Finally – finally – the piece was at an end.
She pushed the end button on the digital box and was swept into James’s arms. Turning her so that she was straddling him, he claimed her mouth with his and she fell into the kiss completely, resting her hands on his shoulders. They were so broad, taking on the weight of the world, and she wanted to ease his burden, take his suffering away and give him joy. Oh, but his kisses were so drugging and wonderful she had to remember to breathe or she was going to pass out.

Holding him in her arms, resting her head against his
throat, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart, of his breathing, she was blissfully happy. His hands were gently rubbing her back and she could have stayed like that forever. Rubbing her cheek against him, she turned her head and kissed the underside of his jaw, loving the slight rasp against her tongue. She smiled at him, surprised to see him looking at her. It took a moment to realize that he wasn’t seeing her with his eyes.

“We should move to someplace more comfortable,” he rasped
reluctantly against her lips.

Her light, shaky laugh whispered over h
is lips as she rested her forehead against his. “I don’t think I can move.”

“I can’t feel my butt,” he crooned, his voice so damn sexy it took her a moment to comprehend what he said.

When it finally dawned on her that she was crushing him, she leapt off his lap, embarrassment causing her cheeks to burn brightly. Taking a few steps away from him, staring at him in horror as he grimaced, she wanted to cry. “I’m so sorry, James.”

He looked at her, his eyes unseeing, and cocked his head to the side, “Why? I’m the idiot who decided to go with the narrower bench because it was more ‘aesthetically pleasing;’ my ass is simply too big for the damn thing.”

A horrified giggle escaped and she slammed her hand over her mouth to cover the unexpected outburst. That one moment of insanity was enough to cool her ardor and allow her nerves to revive themselves with a vengeance. “I thought I was too heavy.”

“Oh, honey, no” he murmured, standing up and moving to stand in front of her without hesitation, without fumbling. Unerringly taking her hands in his, he brought them up to his mouth and kissed her fingers. “No; you were perfect; you
are
perfect.”

She examined his face and saw only sincerity. Suddenly she wanted to see the world through his eyes, to experience his life that he had lived before her. Curling her fingers around his hands, pressing her cheek against his, she whispered, “Will you show me your drawings?”

She felt his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed thickly; she felt his lungs expand as he inhaled deeply. His breath moved across her skin as he admitted, “I’ve never shown anyone my drawings.”

Tilting her head back, she looked at him, the tension along his jaw, the thin line of his lips pressed tightly together. She was going to take it back but then he shuddered and his frozen expression melted into a brilliant smile, “I want you to see; I want to share my vision with you and
see them once more through your voice.”

Her heart crashed straight through her ribs and grabbed onto him,
its little arms clutching tightly to the organ that beat in his chest, adamant in its desire to be his forever. Tears welled up in her eyes and her smile wobbled as she lost her soul completely. “You’ll have to tell me where they are so we can look at them together.”

Clearing his throat, he slid his hands down her arms, taking her right hand in his left and leading her across the room towards a large curio. With a sheepish smile, he said, “I hope I’m going in the right direction; if memory serves the piano is on the left and the cabinet containing my drawings and sketch pads is on the right.”

“We’re going in the correct direction,” she assured him, leaning against his arm and pressing her cheek against his muscled shoulder. “You have yet to steer me wrong, James. When you get your sight back you will be a force to be reckoned with.”

He went completely still at that as the color seeped away from his face. Softly, so softly, he asked, “What if it doesn’t come back, Victoria? What if I’m blind for the rest of my life?”

Stepping in front of him, moving her fingers over his face, his eyes, she whispered, “Then we will adapt and I will help you see. I will paint such detailed images with my words that you will be seeing in Technicolor.”

Resting his forehead against hers, he smiled unsteadily as he took a deep, ragged breath, “I love you, Victoria Davis.”

“I love you, too, James,” she murmured, the words a prayer on her lips. Taking his hand in hers, she gently asked, “Which way to your bedroom?”

This time he took her hand in his and led the way, unerringly moving through the house.
She loved him and she knew that coming to his home was going to lead to this moment and after the powerful moments they had just shared she wanted it. They were going to make love; she was nervous, excited, terrified, breathless.

As they walked into his bedroom, she came to a stop and just stared at the massive bed in the middle of the room. It was like something out of a medieval romance novel: huge, ornate and dramatic, with carved bedposts and velvet hangings. “Wow, did you build your house around that thing?”

He chuckled, “No, it’s a bed I had shipped over from France; it’s an antique.”

“Nice,” she breathed, running a hand along one of the carved posts; vines tangled with one another on the dark wood; making it elegant and imposing. Images of James on that bed, arms and legs spread wide, possibly even tied to the bedposts, flashed in her mind and she had to grab onto the post to steady
herself. Wow; the bed definitely suited him.

Looking over her shoulder at him, she smiled. He had stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and was looking incredibly gorgeous in his casual clothes.
Tentatively, she reached out her hand and lightly ran it over the front of his shirt. “James.”

Capturing her hand, he brought it up to his lips and kissed her fingers, feeling the slight tremble. Smiling at her, he used her hand to guide him to her body. Standing so close, he heard the breath hitch in her throat, felt the shiver of her entire body. Was she shivering with desire or fear? Pressing her hand against his heart, he asked, “
Victoria, are you sure you want this?”

“Yes,” she breathed, taking the last step to close the gap between them and pressing her breasts against his chest. Splaying her hands over his heart, she kissed the pulse along his throat. “Yes.” She kissed the underside of his jaw. “Yes.” She pressed her lips to his.

As her lips brushed against his mouth, he groaned, wrapping his arms around her and deepening the kiss. At her gasp, he pressed his tongue into her mouth, needing to taste her. He felt her fingers unbuttoning his shirt and his body twitched as she ran her hands over the planes of his bare chest. She stepped back for a moment and he almost cried out but then she stepped back and he felt the heat of her skin directly against his.

Victoria
had unzipped the dress and let it fall to the floor, wanting to feel James’s skin directly on hers. Conscious of the ease her heels made kissing, she kept the stilettos on. Trailing kisses along his jaw, his neck, his chest, she reached between their bodies and unfastened his pants. He distracted her by asking, “Victoria, what color is your bra?”

Licking the taut bud of his
masculine nipple, feeling him shudder, she murmured, “I’m wearing a pink lacy bra; it matches my thong and they’re practically non-existent.”

He groaned, picturing her lithe body in skimpy lingerie. “I want to see you.”

“See me.” She breathed the familiar words as she took his hand in hers and slowly ran it over the outer curve of her breast. The lace rasped against his palm and he wanted to feel her skin. Following the curve of her breast, he found the lacy edge and slipped his hand inside and popped her breast out. Her sharp intake of breath would have made him smile if he wasn’t lost in the feel of her silken flesh. He brushed his thumb over her rigid nipple and her body leapt.

Her breast filled his palm, made even more sensational as her hand covered his. “What color are your nipples?”

“Um, dark pink,” she managed as his hand formed her breast to his palm, his thumb brushed her nipple.

“Is your areola large or small?” his voice was getting huskier and huskier.

“Not very big,” she answered, guiding his other hand to her other breast. He repeated his actions, taking a breast in each hand and measuring the weights in his palm. With her hands over his, she could feel what he felt and it was beyond wonderful. Looking down, she watched him shape her breasts, pushing them together, brushing the tips; his darker skin on her pale breasts was so erotic.

“Show me more,” he growled, the blood rushing to pool in his groin. He didn’t think he had ever been so bloody hard
in his life. As intoxicating as it was to touch her, feel her, learn her body with his hands, he wished he could see her with his eyes.

Blushing furiously, she took his right hand and slid it slowly over the front of her stomach, feeling his fingers splay out as he moved over her skin
. Their hands moved over the jut of her hip bone, around the front and over the pink scrap of lace, to the heat between her thighs. His fingers curled into her, pressing the pink material against her core, and she gasped. The feel of his fingers rubbing her, the sensation roughened by the lace, was shattering.

His voice was rough, “You’re so hot.” Words failed her as he pushed the flimsy material aside and slid a finger into her, pumping it shallowly a few times. “And wet.” Her legs trembled as
he slid a second finger in, stretching her. “And tight.”

She grabbed onto his arms as he rubbed the engorged head of her clit with one hand and the hard bud of her nipple with the other. When he bent his head and found her nipple with his mouth, she almost collapsed. Pleasure swamped her as he lightly nipped at her then soothed the pain with a gentle brush of his tongue. “Touch me,
Victoria.”

Trembling, she ran her hands down the front of his chest, finding the top of his pants and pushing them off his thighs. Her fingers curled around his erection as he stepped out of his clothes. She had never known anything that felt so hard and soft and hot all at once. The silken flesh moved effortlessly in her hands but she wanted more, especially
since she was so close to flying. She wanted James inside her, to orgasm with him in her. “James.”

Taking a step backwards, she fell back onto the bed. James fell on top of her and she felt the heat of his erection against her thigh. Kicking off her heels, she pushed herself up towards the head board; James moved with her, kissing her everywhere he could reach. His fingers continued to rub her and she was so close. “Please, James.”

“Condom,” he rasped. “Nightstand.”

Victoria
twisted her body, the heat of James pouring over her, through her. She found the box and pulled out a foil package. Tearing it open with her teeth, she pulled the condom out. James sat back on his heels, abandoning her body. Sitting up, she slid the rubber onto his straining erection; the size of him would be intimidating if she didn’t love him to distraction.

“
Done,” she breathed. She lay back down, enjoying the view of him looming over her. He was extraordinary with his broad shoulders and his sleekly muscled chest. He had the perfect amount of hair, a light dusting of black silk; enough to be masculine but not to the extent of being the missing link. His erection jutted out proudly from between his muscled thighs and his dark thatch of pubic hair. He carefully leaned forward, finding the curve of her shoulder with his palm, seeing her body with his fingers.

His hands slid down her body as he maneuvered into positio
n, holding her hips, he slowly pushed into her. Holding her breath, she held very still as he slowly entered her. She felt her flesh stretch around him as he breached her body, claiming her, possessing her completely. Her fingers curled into the comforter as he penetrated the very depths of her body, her soul.

Tilting her hips up, he sank even further and she gasped, filling her lungs with much needed air. It wasn’t painful, exactly, but it was definitely different.
It was intoxicating. He held his body over her and they were joined but he was too far away. Reaching up, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him down on top of her.