Sugar Daddy (Travis Family #1)(87)

"But what?" His hand coasted up and down my spine. I argued with myself for a few seconds—if I was going to trust a man enough to go to bed with him, I should trust him enough to say whatever I wanted.

"The thing is..." I said with difficulty. No matter how deep a breath I drew. I only seemed to be getting half the air I needed. Gage's hand continued its slow, reassuring motion. "There's something you should know.

"Yes?"

"Well, you see..." I closed my eyes and made myself say it. "The thing is, I'm bad in bed."

His hand stopped. He pried my head away from his shoulder and subjected me to a quizzical glance. "No you're not."

"Yes, yes, I'm bad in bed." It was such a relief to admit it, the words tripped over each other as I continued. "I'm not experienced at all. It's so embarrassing at my age. There have only been two—and the last one, oh, it was so mediocre. Every time. I have no skills. No focus. I take forever to get in the mood and then I can't hold on to it and I have to fake it. I'm a faker, and I'm not even good at that. I'm—"

"Wait. Hold on. Liberty..." Gage hauled me close, stifling the outpouring. I felt a

tremor of laughter run through him. I stiffened, and he gripped me more tightly. "No." he said, his voice thick with amusement. "I'm not laughing at you. sweetheart. I just...no. I'm taking you seriously. I am."

"You don't sound like it."

"Sweetheart." He smoothed my hair back, nuzzled my temple. "There's nothing mediocre about you. The only problem you've got is that you've led the life of a single working mother since you were...what, eighteen, nineteen? I already knew you weren't experienced because.. .to be honest, you throw out all kinds of mixed signals."

"I do11"

"Yes. Which is why I'm fine with taking it slow. Better that than to do something you're not ready for."

"I'm ready," I said earnestly. "I just want to make sure you've lowered your expectations."

Gage looked away from me. and I got the impression he was fighting back another laugh. "Okay. They're low."

"You're just saying that."

He said nothing, his eyes glinting with amusement.

We studied each other, and I wondered if the next move was mine or his. I approached the bed on ramshackle legs, sat on the edge, kicked off the slides. My toes flexed against the pleasant ache of no longer having to endure the forward pitch of my own weight.

Gage watched me. the movement of my bare feet, and his eyes lost their splintered brilliance, looking smoke-hazed, almost drowsy. Encouraged. I reached for the hem of my dress.

"Wait/' Gage murmured, sitting beside me on the mattress. "A couple of ground rules."

I nodded, watching the way the fabric of his pants stretched over his thighs, noticing that his feet reached the floor while my legs dangled. I felt one of his hands touch the edge of my jaw, and he turned my face up to his. "First, no faking. You have to be honest with me."

That made me regret having mentioned the faking. I've always hated being the kind of person who says too much out of nervousness. "All right, but just so you know. I usually take too long—"

"I don't care if it takes all damn night. It's not an audition."

"What if I can't manage to..." For the first time I realized how much harder it is to talk about sex than actually doing it.

"We'll work at it," Gage said. "Believe me, I'll have no problem helping you practice."

I dared to touch his thigh, which felt like concrete beneath my palm. "What's the other rule?"

"I'm in charge."

I blinked, wondering what he meant. Gage's hand closed on my nape in a light squeeze that sent an erotic shock down my spine. "Just for tonight." he continued evenly. "Trust me to decide when and where and how long. You don't have to do anything except relax. Let go. Let me take care of you." His mouth lowered to my ear. and he whispered. "Can you do that for me, darlin'?"

My toes curled. No one had ever asked me such a thing. I wasn't sure I could. But I nodded, my stomach leaping as his mouth wandered across my cheek to the corner of my lips. He kissed me, searching slow and deep until I was weak and my entire body was draped across his lap. Gage took off his shoes and lay across the bed with me, both of us fully clothed. He pressed a thigh into the folds of the red dress, securing me flat against the mattress. His mouth possessed mine with long kisses, bites and nibbles of kisses, until steam collected between my skin and the wool knit fabric. I slid my fingers into his thick hair, cool on the surface, warm near the scalp, trying to capture him.

Gage resisted my anxious urging, pulling back. In one easy move he sat up and straddled my hips. I took a shaky breath as I felt the intimate pressure of him, rock-hard and rearing. Deftly he tugged off the black sweater and tossed it aside, revealing a torso more powerful than I had imagined, sleek and hard-quilted, his chest lightly covered with dark hair. I wanted to feel his chest against my na**d br**sts. I wanted to kiss him, explore him, not for his pleasure but my own, he was so damn arousing, so intensely masculine.

Lowering over me, Gage sought my mouth again, and I was smoldering, desperate to be free of my dress, which had begun to prickle and cling like a medieval hair shirt. I reached for the hem. tugging the tormenting fabric upward.