“Beautiful,” he murmured thickly. “You’ve got a gorgeous ass.”
She made a shaky sound of arousal as he took both cheeks in his big hands and massaged her lewdly.
“I want to see you,” she voiced her most fervent wish at that moment. He hadn’t let her see and touch him in the stables. He wasn’t allowing it again. Her need started to cut at her.
He parted her ass cheeks. Alice whimpered at the sudden exposure, her muscles tightening. She couldn’t see him, but she felt his stare on her, scoring her.
He groaned roughly and got off the bed.
Alice lifted her cheek, wild to know what he was doing. He stood at the side of the bed and ripped at the button fly of his jeans. He whipped off his shirt in one fluid, sinuous motion. She went very still, staring at the lean, ridged expanse of his taut abdomen and wide chest. He was beautiful. Powerful. So male, it made her ache to look at him. There was a fair amount of dark hair on his chest, but not too much. She could perfectly see the delineation of hard muscle and his small, erect nipples. His ribs and abdomen made a tapestry of ridges of bone and muscle along with smooth stretches of skin. Her brows furrowed when she saw two small white scars on his right side below his ribs, one slightly larger than the other. Surgery scars, maybe? The jaggedness of them argued against it. Concern fractured her arousal slightly. But she didn’t ask. She didn’t like it when people noticed her invisible scars, so she instinctively stilled her tongue about his visible ones.
Those small imperfections only seemed to highlight the appeal of everything else, a tiny vulnerability in a sea of masculine strength. A thin trail of dark silky hair led from just below his bellybutton, transecting a taut belly and disappearing elusively into the V of his partially unbuttoned fly.
God, what she wanted to do to him.
Then he knelt and she was deprived of the elusive mouthwatering vision as he jerked at the laces on his hiking boots. But an entire new fascinating landscape of his muscular shoulders and back was revealed to her. She felt that pull she always experienced around him, that inner tug to draw closer.
“Dylan,” she muttered, starting to rise up and edge off the wedged pillow toward him.
He glanced up, his eyes seeming to glow in his shadowed face.
“Stay there, Alice,” he said firmly. “Don’t move.”
She paused, biting her lip.
He stood, the vision of him dominating her vision. She felt strangely helpless lying there naked with her bottom sticking up in the air and her thighs parted, but intensely aroused as well. Something about waiting for him—anticipating what was coming next—spiked her lust.
He kicked off his boots and shucked off his socks quickly. His face looked hard and tight as he ripped at the remaining buttons of his fly and hooked his thumbs into both his jeans and white underwear at once. He pulled forward on the waistband of his boxer briefs, and his heavy erection fell free. Alice’s breath stuck at the brief electrical glimpse, but th
en he was bending and forcefully shucking the rest of his clothes off his legs.
Finally, he stood before her, naked.
Once, Alice would have thought it rude just to gape in open-mouthed wonder at a man, but all the rules seemed to go out the door with Dylan. Besides, she loved the way he ate her up with his unguarded male hunger. Why shouldn’t she reciprocate? Anyway … there wasn’t really any other way to react to the sight of Dylan naked and aroused.
“Is this what you wanted to see?” he asked her quietly.
Her breath caught and fresh heat rushed into her cheeks and sex when he took his cock into his hand and rubbed it slowly. He was heavy with arousal, the shaft suspended between strong thighs. The head was smooth and succulent looking, flaring from the tip to a defined ridge beneath the crown. The shaft was thick and straight, his testicles round and shaved.
“Yes,” she whispered, caught in a spell of pure lust. She’d known he was formidable and flagrant from his possession in the stables, but the vision of him left her breathless. Her mouth watered. She swept her tongue along her lower lip to gather the extra moisture.
“Alice,” he said tightly.
She blinked, her gaze darting to his face. She quailed a little inwardly, he looked so intimidating at that moment. He took a step and jerked open a bedside table drawer. He withdrew what she recognized as a condom, and then he was clambering on the bed behind her, six feet and several inches of hard primed male. She lifted her head and strained to look around, desperate for the sight of him.
He opened his hand along her hip and rubbed her ass. “Put your head back on the mattress,” he said.
“But—”
“Alice. Please. I want you to feel, not see.”
“Why?” burst exasperatedly out of her throat. His other hand was on her now, sliding up the length of her back. She exhaled in pleasure as he stroked her, her argument forgotten. Her burning cheek sank against the cool duvet.
“You’re incredible,” he rumbled behind her. He kneaded her shoulder muscles and a buttock at once. He palmed her ass so possessively that he lifted her flesh. She could feel the cool air strike the wetness between her thighs. “Dylan, please,” she whispered hoarsely.
“Be patient. I’m enjoying touching you,” he said. She bit her lip upon hearing the edge to his tone. He would take things at his own pace, whether she liked it or not. She did like it, though. Too much. He held her hips with both hands and paused, and again that overwhelming sense of arousal and … something else. What was it she was feeling?
It just felt so good, so grounding and right to be held by his hands.