Fearless (5 page)

“Your place is amazing,” I say. I don't add that I had expected his apartment to be more austere, more like him, all clean lines and functionality. Instead, it's warm and inviting yet masculine, with polished hardwood floors, exposed wood beams, muted rugs, a soft leather sofa, and the occasional pop of color from a few simple pieces of well-chosen art.

“It's home,” he says with a shrug.

He's looking at me as if he's stripping me bare and I can feel my confidence slip. I wanted this, I do want this, but the reality of being with him and what we are about to do is much more intimidating now that it's about to happen.

“So,” I say, grasping for something, anything, to say to slow where this is undoubtedly heading. “You said you have two brothers. Are you the oldest, middle or youngest?”

“Oldest,” he says, not taking his eyes off of me.

“Figures,” I say, flippantly. “First children are always bossy, authoritative, and controlling.”

“And you?” he asks. His voice has gotten lower, and that sexy rasp is unleashing butterflies in my stomach.

“Youngest,” I say. “I have two older brothers.”

“Figures,” he counters evenly. “Youngest children are always rebellious, manipulative, and carefree.”

I laugh. “Okay, I deserved that. I may have been carefree when I was younger, but I'm not anymore. Just ask my ex. He'd confirm that I'm definitely uptight.”

His lips tighten.

“Come here,” he says softly, holding out his hand. I grab it like it's a lifeline and he pulls me to his side.

With our fingers laced together, he pulls me down a hallway on the opposite side of the open kitchen and living area. We pass several darkened bedrooms and I think a bathroom before we reach the room at the end of the hall. It's obviously his bedroom, but it's definitely not what I expected. For one thing it's enormous, with a downright sinfully luxurious four poster bed that dominates the room and is covered with a black satin comforter and an assortment of pillows in different shapes and sizes. There's a fireplace on the wall opposite the bed, and like the living room, there are exposed beams in the ceiling and another entire wall was made up of windows. A sliding glass door leads out to a small balcony, and the entire room is dimly lit by iron sconces on the wall. It looks like a bedroom made for sin. I take a deep breath to bolster my courage.

Beckett crosses over to the windows and closes the blinds, enveloping us in the warm privacy of his sumptuous bedroom. With smoldering eyes, he closes the distance between us. He leans in, holding me still with his hands on either side of my head, and gently touches his lips to mine. They are softer than I had expected and taste faintly of wine. I sigh and tip my head back for more as he deepens the kiss, slipping his tongue between my parted lips. He runs the tip of his tongue over my teeth, and I tentatively touch his tongue with mine. Sliding his arms around me, he plunges deeper into my mouth, exploring its depths, and my body responds to the onslaught of sensation. Every nerve in my body feels alive, and when he slowly pulls away I almost fall into him. My eyes are half-closed and my breath is coming faster. His hand moves down to my hips, holding me steady. His authoritative grip is as comforting as it is erotic.

“Do you want me as much I want you?”

“More, I think,” I say with a strangled laugh.

“That's impossible,” he says matter-of-factly. He leisurely trails his hands down the small of my back and over the curve of my ass, gripping the bottom of my cheeks and pressing me to him so I can feel his hard erection. He kisses me again, a long, sensuous kiss that raises me up on my toes.

I give in to the erotic assault until my stupid brain decides to chime in, reminding me of my many inadequacies in the bedroom. The voice in my head sounds an awful lot like Tim's, telling me I'm cold in bed, complaining that I'm never willing to try anything new, asking me impatiently if I've come yet. Reluctantly I pull away.

“What's wrong?” he asks gently. “If you're not ready for this, it's okay.”

“It's not that,” I say, lowering my gaze.

He lifts my chin with a finger until I am forced to meet his dark, sensual gaze. “Tell me.”

Damn the man. It's nearly impossible not to respond to him when he uses that commanding tone. What's up with that? I sigh. I might as well be honest. He'll figure it out soon anyway. Taking a deep breath I confess, “The thing is, I'm not really good at orgasms.”

“Is that so?” he says, running his hands up and down my spine in a way that is making it hard for me to focus.

“Umm, yeah. So I just wanted you to know that, you know, you don't have to wait for that or spend a lot of time, you know, trying, because it usually doesn't happen.” Okay, this is embarrassing. I need more alcohol. “I don't want you to feel pressure to make it happen, or me to feel pressure to, you know…”

“Come?” he prompts huskily, kissing me erotically in the soft hollow behind my ear.

I blink. Did he really just say that?

“Uh, yeah.”

“Duly noted,” he says, nipping my earlobe with his teeth. I can feel my pulse racing.

“Okay, then,” I say, relieved to have that on the table. I don't think I could bear letting him down by my inability to have an orgasm. And I can't, and won't, fake it. Resolutely, I take a deep breath, kick off my sandals and reach for the hem of my dress. His hand stops me.

“Do you remember what you said to me at the restaurant? What you gave me permission to do?”

I look up at him puzzled, trying to remember. Suddenly, I remember the sushi menu and me casually telling him I'd let him order. What did I say? Oh yeah, that he could take charge. I gulp as the implication sinks in.

“Tell me again!” he commands, cupping my chin in his hand and forcing me to look up at him.

“I gave you my permission to take charge,” I say, and I can feel my face flush.

“If I recall, you gave your permission for the entire evening.”

“Um, technically,” I say weakly.

“Do you trust me?”

I nod. Oddly enough, I do.

“Good. Then there's just one thing you have to do tonight. You do exactly what I say, no argument, unless you feel uncomfortable or want me to stop, in which case you say so and I stop. Whether you orgasm or not isn't your concern. All you have to focus on is doing what I tell you to do. That's it. Do you understand?”

My breath catches and I feel moisture between my legs. The thought of doing whatever he says, giving my body to this powerful and intoxicating man, makes me ache with desire, but I don't know if I can do it. I'm used to keeping everything—my body, my mind, my emotions—firmly under control. It's the only way I've been able to survive the last thirteen years.

“You can do this,” he says like he's reading my mind again, and the way he's looking at me makes me want to try.

Before I have time to think, he pulls me close and slowly runs his hands up the back of my thighs and under my dress, stopping to caress my bare buttocks.

“Well,” he says, a small smile playing at his lips. “There's one question answered.”

He hooks a thumb into the waistband of my thong and gently eases it down over my butt, letting it drop to the floor.

“Step out of it,” he instructs huskily, and with my eyes lowered, I do as he says.

“Turn around,” he says, making a circle with his finger, and I turn slowly. My insides have completely turned to liquid. He gathers my hair in his hand, lifting it, and softly presses his lips to the back of my neck as my whole body shudders with desire. He slowly eases the zipper of my dress down, pulling it provocatively over my shoulders and down the length of my body until it pools at my feet. In one quick motion he unhooks my bra and it joins my dress on the floor, leaving me completely naked. Although my back is to him, I instinctively move to cover my breasts, but he reaches around me and gently grabs each of my wrists, drawing them behind my back and holding them there as he turns me to face him.

“You are exquisite,” he says, his deep voice throaty. “Don't hide from me.”

Oh my. I am completely naked and he is still completely dressed. Somehow, I manage to stand still under his gaze. I have never been so turned on in my life. Still holding my wrists lightly behind my back, he pulls me to him and kisses me again, and my mouth is claimed wholly and completely by him.

He takes a step back and releases my wrists. Eager to feel his bare skin, I reach to unbutton his shirt but he stops me, once again capturing my hands in his.

“My rules tonight,” he reminds me. “I'm in charge.” Letting go of my hands, he slowly unbuttons his shirt, keeping his eyes locked with mine. He shrugs out of it and my mouth goes dry at the sight of his smooth, well-muscled chest. It's a chest that belongs on a pin-up calendar, with well-defined abs and a dark line of hair that blazes a trail past his belly button, disappearing into the waistband of his pants.

“Come here.” Taking my hand, he pulls me over to the bed and kisses me again, pulling me down onto the bed with him. Our tongues dance together wildly, each seeking and exploring, and then somehow I'm lying on the bed and he's lying beside me, his bare chest touching mine. His skin is warm and smooth and I can feel my nipples harden against the smattering of coarse dark hair on his chest. I moan softly in protest when he moves away slightly. He props himself up on one elbow, his gaze boldly running over my naked body.

“Put your arms over your head and hold onto the headboard,” he instructs huskily, gently grasping each of my wrists and drawing my arms over my head. I feel a rush of heat scorch through my body as my fingers curl around the headboard. He runs a gentle finger over my face, tracing my cheekbones, and then my jaw. His touch is almost reverent. He runs them over my lips and I can feel my breath catch. His hand moves down the side of my neck, stopping briefly to feel my pulse. I'm pretty sure he may have to stop and do CPR because even I can feel its wild pulsing. He continues his exploration of my body, barely skimming the outside curve of my breast as his hand moves lower. His palm rests on my stomach and I feel a tug of desire between my legs. With his fingertips, he makes small circles on my stomach, smiling slightly as the muscles quiver under his touch. Slowly, his fingers travel back up my body, circling my breasts lightly. My nipples harden into tight pebbles and I thrust them toward him slightly.

He leans over me and the feel of his bare chest against mine ignites my skin. His mouth, wet and warm, closes over my nipple and he sucks gently. I can't help it—my body arches upward to meet him. He moves to the other breast, his tongue circling and flicking the nipple until I moan again, and he takes it into his mouth, gently nipping it with his teeth. Reflexively, I clutch his shoulders.

Pausing, his mouth so close to my breast that I can feel his breath caress my nipple, he asks, “Do you want me to stop?”

What? “No!” I say, shaking my head wildly. “I might kill you if you stop.”

“Then keep your hands on the headboard or I'll tie them there,” he growls.

His command sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through me and I quickly raise my hands back over my head, gripping the headboard tightly. I have never been so aroused in my entire life and so far all he's touched are my breasts. He continues his sweet assault on first one breast and then another until my hips are undulating beneath him.

“You have very sensitive breasts,” he whispers. He slowly trails kisses across my stomach, stopping just above my pubic bone. Oh no. Is he going where I think he's going? I can't do this. I shouldn't do this. I am the mother of a teenager for crying out loud. How can I be in the bed of a man I barely know, letting him do whatever he wants to me and getting completely aroused by it? I probably
am
going to be a statistic in the newspaper tomorrow. Woman killed by sexiest man alive.

I open my eyes and see that Beckett is watching me. Embarrassed, I lay back and close my eyes tightly.

“Remember, I'm in charge. All you have to do is lie there. Although I'm starting to see you have a little trouble following rules.”

Then there is only sensation. His lips on mine, his tongue warm and demanding as he slowly and erotically makes love to my mouth. His hands on my skin, skillful and insistent as he explores my body, stroking, touching, teasing, and arousing my senses until I am wild with need. Then his mouth is on my hot flesh again, singeing me with its heat as his tongue travels along the lines of my body, and the feel of his lips, like liquid velvet across my skin, is pure ecstasy.

“I'm going to taste you now,” he says, his voice low and seductive. With a sweet ache building inside me, I tighten my hold on the headboard as he grips my hips, holding me secure. He slowly licks me from back to front until his tongue rests on my clitoris, exerting the slightest of pressure. I twitch uncontrollably at the wildly erotic sensation. He pinches one nipple and then the other, and I squeal in surprise. Then his tongue laves my sensitive sex, circling and slashing across my clit as I uncontrollably grind my pelvis against his face. His tongue probes me, licking and teasing until I am open and drenched. A part of me wants to protest, to insist that I not give the surrender he demands, but my body seems to have other ideas. The sensations start to overlap until a tight ball of need is gathering deep in my core, demanding release.

“Please!” I manage to say.

Abruptly, he pulls away and I almost cry out in frustration. Then his mouth is on mine again, claiming ownership, as he slips a finger inside my drenched flesh. I moan, writhing against him.

“I think you can take more,” he murmurs, and another finger joins the first, thrusting gently inside me as my muscles start to clench around them. I am spiraling out of control, caught in a vortex of mindless yearning. I don't care about anything but this moment. I buck against his hand as he continues to slide his fingers back and forth inside me, and then his mouth is on my clit again, drawing against the sensitive nub. He hums, and the combination of the low vibration and his hot mouth against my sex, coupled with his fingers insistently pumping and filling me, are too much. I shatter, years of pent up need finding release as wave after wave of hot pleasure courses through me. His hand is relentless between my legs, coaxing every last ripple of climax from me as my muscles contract against his fingers, until I finally lay still beneath him.