Laughing, she sat sideways across his legs. She swept her spoon through the ice cream and started toward him, only to snatch the bite for herself at the last moment. Her green eyes twinkled.
He chuckled, surprised at her playfulness. She was always so serious. But then she was always overworked. He’d been drawn to her before. Now he was...mesmerized.
Scooping up a taste of ice cream, he brought the spoon to her mouth and didn’t play.
She closed her lips over the spoon and moaned in appreciation. “I’m not being much of a hostess, and this really is tasty, if I do say so myself. The ice cream is home churned.”
This time, she didn’t play, but offered him a taste with some pecan pie mixed in. He’d eaten at the best restaurants around the world, but damned if he could remember ever having had homemade ice cream before. Either it was the best ever, or being with Natalie made it the best ever.
To hell with food. He kissed her. Really kissed her. And hell, yes, she really kissed him back.
While savoring the taste of vanilla on her tongue, he set aside his spoon with a clink of metal against china and plucked her spoon from her hand, as well. The curve of her hip pressed against him in a temptation even sweeter than the dessert. Having her in his arms was better and better every time.
He didn’t know what he’d ever done in his life that was good enough to deserve this moment, but he was grateful. And was going to make sure she didn’t regret whatever made her decide to take this leap. He considered himself savvy at reading people, and he suspected her fast move into intimacy was out of character for her. He didn’t want to ponder too muc
h on the why of that.
He just wanted to ponder on...her.
He slid an arm under her legs and along her back, lifting her as he stood. She sighed, her hands clasping his shoulders. He closed the four steps to the bed in record time, lowering her to the mattress without breaking contact. He’d dreamed of having her here, planned, but the rush of excitement at holding her in his arms, in his room, exceeded his imagination.
And his imagination had been mighty damn amazing.
Stretching out over her, he groaned with pleasure at the feeling of her under him. The mattress gave ever so slightly as he did his best to keep his full weight off her while still enjoying the fit and match of their bodies aligning. Of seeing her fiery hair splayed across his pillow. Her emerald green eyes were sultry with want.
She snapped the waistband of his running shorts with a sass that sent a bolt of desire surging through him. He sketched his mouth along her jaw, down her neck to her shoulder and then the soft length of her arm until he could reach her ankle. He inched his fingers under the hem of her dress and bunched the fabric up, up, up her silky leg to her hip.
Arching her back, she bowed upward and stretched her arms overhead in an unmistakable invitation. An invitation he fully intended to accept. He swept her dress up and off...exposing breathtaking curves encased in white lace.
She looked like one of those timeless models painted on the side of an aircraft in the prior century. Pinup luscious and all his for the taking. Or maybe she was taking him, because the way her fingers were caressing his chest, then moved lower still to cradle his erection, had him throbbing to be inside her. Deeply. Fully.
The feel of her hands on him numbed his mind to rational thought. Instincts took over, his whispers of encouragement mixing with her moans as they swept aside the remainder of clothes until—yes—they were skin to skin, heated flesh to flesh. The length of his hard-on pressed on her stomach in a tempting precursor of what it would feel like to have her all around him.
Soon.
Not soon enough, if her eager hands were anything to judge by, as they touched him, explored him...and sheathed him in the condom.
Damn. She was tight... Tight or tense? Either way, he intended to take care of her.
He slid his hand between them, touching and circling the nub of nerves. Her hips rocked in response, urging him deeper even as he perceived a wince. He didn’t consider himself an ego dude about size, but clearly there was an issue here. Possibly she’d been abstinent for a long while? He’d heard of that being an issue for a woman who’d gone for long periods without, but he could also see in her face that talking was going to be a serious mood buster. So he ramped up the foreplay.
And truth be told, taking his time with her was no sacrifice. A bit torturous, but incredibly so.
She grazed her nails down his back to dig into his buttocks. “Why are you waiting? I want this.”
He nipped her earlobe and whispered, “And I want this to be good for both of us.”
“I know what I’m doing. I’m not naive.” She rubbed a knee along his hip.
“I can tell.” He smoothed back her hair, smiling. “We’re just having some logistic issues here, and taking my time with you is in no way a hardship.”
He kissed her neck, devoting his undivided attention to gently licking and tasting along the creamy patch of skin running from her ear to her shoulder. Her pulse picked up speed under his mouth.
Every inch deeper inside her was sweet torture, but he was determined to make sure she didn’t regret this. He wanted to be invited back into her bed and he intended to use every touch, taste, instinct in his arsenal to make sure she issued that invitation.
She writhed under him, arching her breasts against his chest. The sensation of her softness against him threatened his tenuous control, but what a sweet temptation. He dipped his head and took a pebbly peak in his mouth, teasing and tugging. And yes, her breathy sigh of approval sent a rush of victory through him. He shifted his attention to the other creamy mound while sliding his hand over the breast he’d abandoned.
Moments melded into each other and he reveled in her relaxing. An interesting dichotomy as her passion rose but her muscles melted. His thrusts slid deeper, deeper still and he searched her face for the least sign of discomfort and found she was watching him. Which meant she was thinking. He wanted her feeling.