Much Ado About You(64)
“You sure this is what you want?” he asked, but before I could answer, his caresses stopped and his voice became gruff when he confessed, “Because this isn’t just sex for me, Evie. I want us to take a chance on each other, for real. And if you can’t do that, you need to walk away now.” His hands suddenly pushed deeper into my back, holding me tighter, closer, the gesture at odds with his words.
I trembled in his arms, despite the heat, a shiver tickling down my spine. I knew Roane. I knew that it would never just be sex for him. He wasn’t that guy. And he didn’t look at me like a guy who just wanted one thing.
He looked at me like a guy who wanted everything.
It was seductive, compelling, and despite all my concerns about how a relationship might derail me from working out my future plans, I couldn’t deny myself him anymore. Hadn’t I told myself all those months ago that if I realized love was something I wanted in my life, then I had to actively start pursuing it? Well, Roane Robson was one of a kind, and I’d be an absolute fool to walk away from the chance to see if what was between us could be something real.
Something epic.
In answer, I lifted my arms into the air, inviting him to remove my tank top.
Relief sparked in his eyes, hunger following quickly on its heels. My chest heaved with my labored, excited breaths as Roane’s fingers curled into the fabric. He fisted it and then slowly tugged the tank top up and over my head.
He dropped it to the floor, and a feeling of self-consciousness came over me as he dragged his gaze down, drinking in the sight of me in my bra. I might have legs for days and an impressively large chest, but I also had a rounded stomach that turned into belly rolls when I sat.
Maybe I tensed or Roane read my expression because he suddenly cupped my face in his large hands. His palms were hot and rough against my skin. “You’re perfect, Evie.”
“I’m not perfect.” I shook my head with a wry smile as I lifted a hand to tickle my fingertips across one of his pecs. Not like you. His eyes fluttered at my touch, a shudder moving through him that made me feel extremely powerful. Okay, maybe I wasn’t perfect, but Roane seemed to like all that I was anyway.
“You are to me,” he said, supporting my suspicions. He swept his thumbs over my cheeks, the touch tender, but as he moved his hands down my neck, there was a sexy possessiveness to his exploration.
Roane’s eyes followed his fingertips as he trailed them with frustrating slowness across my collarbone and down toward the rise of my breasts. His gaze filled with intense want as he stared at them.
“I can almost taste them, feel your nipples on my tongue,” he whispered.
My body jerked at his surprising words. I hadn’t imagined Roane to be much of a talker during sex. It was arousing, and goose bumps prickled in the wake of his touch as his fingertips lightly caressed the upper curves. My nipples peaked against my bra in anticipation for his mouth. I made a guttural sound in the back of my throat, bringing Roane’s gaze back to mine. Whatever he saw there made him cup my face in his hands, and he lowered his head toward mine.
I sucked in a breath as I clasped his biceps, his skin damp from the heat, his muscles hard beneath my fingertips.
Roane was going to kiss me.
I felt the heat of his breath first, the warning before his lips touched mine. And when they did, it was a barely there brush, a hot, glancing touch.
My fingers dug into his arms, silently urging him to really kiss me.
I was desperate for it.
But Roane was determined to take his time. Another whisper of a kiss, then a slightly deeper press, a nibble on my lower lip.
A whimper escaped me.
It shattered whatever restraint Roane had lassoed around himself. His hands clasped the back of my neck, hauling me against his body as his mouth pressed hard to mine. I opened my mouth to let him in, and his groan of satisfaction rumbled through me.
The tickle of his beard was surprisingly erotic on my skin. I’d dated guys who had stubble, which was abrasive, but Roane’s thicker beard was slightly wiry and softer than the prickle of stubble. It felt rugged, masculine, my opposite, and it was a big turn-on. Roane was aroused too. I could feel evidence of how much he wanted me digging into my stomach as he savored me with tender reverence that was sexier than any kiss that had ever come before his. Sliding my hands down his back, feeling the hot, smooth strength of him under my touch, I melted into him. His hands drifted down from my neck, and with teasing strokes, Roane studied my body—my ribs, my waist. When he touched my stomach, I fumbled the kiss and he broke it to gaze down at me through lust-fogged eyes.
Watching me, he deliberately ran the backs of his knuckles across my belly. “Every inch, angel.” His voice was hoarse.
I relaxed, feeling a little embarrassed by my self-consciousness, but that abashment didn’t last long as he bent to recapture my mouth. Roane’s hands glided around to my ass, where he cupped both cheeks and drew me against his arousal. As he ground into me, his tongue caressed mine in deep, wet strokes, growing wild and almost bruising. I wondered what that beard would feel like between my thighs.
I groaned at the thought.
Roane suddenly broke the kiss, our breaths mingling as we panted against each other.
“Why did you stop?” I whispered.
“Because.” He squeezed his eyes closed as he rested his forehead against mine. “There’s plenty of time for us to fuck. I don’t want that for our first time. I want to make love to you.”