Gentleman Sinner(32)

I stare down at him, flummoxed. He needs controlled environments. Everything about Theo Kane since I met him has been controlled, and now I realize that will extend into the bedroom. He nods a little, seeing my comprehension, and his hands come back to my ankles, instantly replacing my shock with want. His touch doesn’t only make me feel safe. It makes me ache.

He smiles up at me, then lowers his eyes to my feet. ‘Like I’ve already told you,’ he says quietly, ‘you had me the moment I touched you.’ Lifting one of my feet to his knee, he starts to unfasten my sandal, his fingers constantly skimming the sensitive flesh of my ankle bone, driving me wild. But I wait, knowing it’ll be worth the agony. I had him. My touch. Our skin touching. A little part of me is intrigued, but a bigger part is relieved that he feels the same as me.

He releases my foot and drops my sandal, collecting my other foot and carefully removing that shoe, too. Once he’s done, both his hands slide around the backs of my calves and he lifts on his knees, bringing him higher, sliding his hands as he goes. He’s looking up at me, working his hands under my dress until he has a possessive hold of my arse. He squeezes, cocking his head a little, pulling me forward so his face is level with my breasts. Then he slowly drags my dress up until my bare flesh is exposed to his mouth. I still and close my eyes, knowing he’s going to come face-to-face with my scars at any second. I’m mentally preparing my go-to answer that I use when I’m asked what happened, feeling his movements falter. He’s seen them. Right now, while I’m hiding in my darkness, he’s staring at the aftermath of my past.

I wait for him to ask about the marks on my skin, but a few moments later, he still hasn’t. So I locate the courage I need to look down at him, finding him focused on my tummy. Staring. I breathe in shakily as he looks up at me, his face blank. Then he slowly drops his lips to the side of my belly button and licks around the area. My world doesn’t just flip upside down. It spins. And it spins. And it spins and spins and spins. Yet I still see Theo’s face. Clear as day, as bright as I’m sure it has ever been. My head falls back on my shoulders, my eyes closing in complete ecstasy, my gratitude fierce. The gentle swirl of his tongue is just the start of things to come. If this is fucking like a whore, then I’ll sign up for a lifetime’s worth.

‘Izzy,’ Theo rumbles, my name sounding like an enticing plea as he kisses his way over my dress, up my throat to my chin as he stands. ‘We’re worlds apart but so fucking close.’ He nibbles up to my lips. ‘Lift your arms.’

I raise them, no thought or hesitation, and he pulls my dress up over my head. I go to reach down to his trousers to feel the hardness, bold and daring, or more like desperate. But he seizes my hand in a harsh grip, stilling me.

‘I crave a controlled environment,’ he reminds me. ‘That means you make no movements without my say-so.’

I groan, not liking the prospect of no free rein over his body. ‘Please,’ I try.

He shakes his head against my lips. ‘Trust me.’ Picking me up, he carries me to the bed. ‘Are you clean?’ he asks, and I nod my head. ‘Are you protected?’ I nod again, hoping he’ll confirm what I need to ask in return. ‘Me too.’

I study him as my head comes to rest on the soft pillow. His face is the softest I’ve seen it, his eyes the bluest, as he removes my bra and knickers painstakingly slowly, casting them aside. He swallows hard as he spends a few rapt moments taking me in.

Waiting as patiently as I can, fighting to keep my arms by my sides, I watch, breathless, as he starts to strip down. His shirt buttons are unfastened one by one, slowly revealing the chest I’ve imagined constantly. The tattoo I’ve only had a peek of is nowhere to be seen when the two sides of his shirt hang open, but I can see taut skin. Biting down on my bottom lip, I hold my breath and bend one leg, bringing the sole of my foot up and pushing it into the covers, squeezing my thighs together. Liquid fire surges into my core, my nipples pebbling. His eyes drift slowly from my breasts to my thighs, back and forth as he rolls his shoulders and shrugs off his shirt, letting it float down to the floor.

Awe slams into me, tangling my mind, and my held breath chokes me. ‘Oh my God,’ I whisper, trying to comprehend the sculpted lines of Theo’s torso. Every muscle is sharp, to the point I’m sure I would cut myself if I were to trace one. Definition so clear, skin so tight, and swells of muscle so hard. My mouth dries as my eyes roam the planes of him in wonder, drifting down to his stomach and the perfect V that leads neatly to his groin. His trousers hang low, a sliver of the waistband of his boxer shorts peeking out. My sights fall on to his hip, where more ink spans the narrow area, and I cock my head a little, trying to fathom what I’m looking at. My eyes shoot up to his when I realize what it is. Praying hands. His face is straight, the muscles of his neck pulsing, and there, cascading down on to his shoulder, is another piece of art. Rosary beads. They drip down his skin, on to the top of his thick arm, and dangling from the bottom is a delicate cross. Theo is still, letting me take it all in, and when he slowly turns away from me, I suck in air. Spanning his wide shoulder blades and sinking down the centre of his spine is a crucifix, encrusted and intricate. It’s beautiful, yet almost haunting. The praying hands, the rosary beads, the crucifix. Is he that religious?

I shift on the bed a little as he comes back to face me, unbuttoning his trousers and pushing them down his thighs, taking his boxers with them, before stepping out. His cock springs free, stiff, thick and long, as stunning as the rest of him. I’ve never seen anything like him. He’s the finest example of God’s creation. There’s not one ounce of fat anywhere to be seen. He’s solid, inconceivably so. One of his thighs is probably thicker than my waist, his legs long and powerful. He looks lethal but beautiful, hard but soft. My body is in chaos, my nerves burning, all in response to what I’m faced with. My want has gone through the roof and desperation is now crippling me. He looks like a warrior, raw and primal. A fighter.