And then she was cradled in his arms and being carried up a flight of stairs. She’d only just slid her arms around his neck and buried her nose against his neck when they entered his bedroom.
He had a big bed. But then, Fisher was a big man. The brown sheets were a tangled mess, the blankets hung halfway off the mattres
s. “I wasn’t expecting company,” he murmured as he set her feet on the floor.
She looked up at him. “Sorry to change your plans.”
“I’m not.” He smiled down at her, running a hand through her hair. “You sure?”
She nodded, despite all of her insecurities bubbling up. “I... I’ve never been so sure.”
He shook his head, dropping a kiss on her lips. Even now, he seemed hesitant, like he was holding back. His eyes met hers, his hands cupping her face as he inspected every inch of her face. “I love you.” His words shattered any lingering doubts she had.
She slid her arms around his waist. “Then kiss me.”
His mouth was magic. He kissed her so long and deep that she was only vaguely aware of their clothes disappearing. When they fell onto the bed, she didn’t know. But the electric shock of his chest against hers was exhilarating. She opened her eyes; her fingers stroked the muscled contours of his body. They lay, facing one another, a bedside lamp casting a warm glow in the room.
How could she have imagined a man could look like this? His arms were thickly cut, the raw strength of his body reassuring. His strength would protect her. He was rugged and hard and beautiful. She let her eyes explore him, the physicality of his body heightening the thrum of want in her blood. This man loved her and wanted to make love to her.
She looked at him, surprised to see him watching her face. His smile was gentle, but his locked jaw revealed just how much he wanted her. And she wanted him, so much. She lifted his hand and placed it on her side. “Touch me?”
* * *
FISHER HEARD THE uncertainty in her voice and reacted instantly. It didn’t matter that he was barely in control, that just lying at her side was affecting him in a way he’d never expected. If she wanted him to touch her, he would touch her. Every soft, sweet inch of her. He didn’t know where to start. Full breasts, a narrow waist, and flared hips—he swallowed—her body was made for touching, for kissing and loving.
He was glad he’d turned on the bedside lamp. He wanted to see her, he wanted to take his time to love every inch of her. His gaze followed the path of his fingers as he stroked along her ribs. She had an oval birthmark on the top of her right hip...
He stooped and kissed the small oval. His hand slid up, his lips dropping kisses along the curve of her side, his palm resting on her chest, fingers and thumb cradling the weight of her full breast.
Kylee. In his heart and his bed. She loved him. And trusted him.
He bent forward, sucking the rosy tip into his mouth. Her fingers gripped his head tightly, the sound she made in the back of her throat driving him mad. His tongue traced and circled, his lips tugged and sucked, making her moan as she arched into him—asking for more. Her responsiveness was all the encouragement he needed. He moved over her, easing his knee between her legs. His hands cradled her face as he kissed her.
He moved slowly into her, trying not to lose himself in her tight heat. She clung to him, her thighs pressed against his hips and her hands gripping his back. She shifted beneath him, the sweet friction too much. One hand moved to her hip, holding her still until he gained control.
“Fisher—” Her voice was broken.
His eyes met hers and held. He moved, sliding deep—forcing himself to keep a slow and steady rhythm. He wanted to watch her, soak in her every sigh and moan. Seeing her fall apart was powerful. The shift of emotions on her face, the way her body tightened and trembled around him, the desperate cry that spilled from her lips as she held tightly to his hips. His climax was fierce, shattering him and leaving him shaken.
He stared down at her, smiling at her flushed cheeks and the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Which drew his attention to her breasts. “Damn beautiful.” He stooped, leisurely kissing the tip of one, then the other.
Her fingers slid through his hair, and she laughed softly.
He propped himself on his elbows and looked down at her. “Am I crushing you?”
She shook her head, her breathing calming. Her fingers ran along his hairline, the bridge of his nose and his mouth. “You’re handsome.”
He caught her hand and kissed it. “I am.”
She laughed then, shaking her head.
“That is the sweetest sound in the whole world,” he said, still holding her hand.
She shook her head again.
“It is. I know it is,” he said, threading his fingers with hers. “I’d be willing to bet Shawn would agree.”
“He’s biased,” she argued.