The Purest Hook (Second Circle Tattoos #3)(39)

“Like that is it?” he grinned as she tugged his hair again.

“Maybe.”

Dred kissed her chest, her lips, her neck. His hands roved her body, sometimes reverently, sometimes roughly. She loved it all. And inspired by the uninhibited way he explored her, she reached for the hem of his T-shirt, and inched it up over his back. Dred knelt up and grabbed it, pulling it off over his head in one swift movement. His hands came back to her waist.

Holy baby Jesus. He was so very perfect. Every part of him rippled with muscles. His chest was broad, his abs. . . . Seriously. The ink, the hair, the talent. Yes, she’d seen him at the hotel, but up this close and personal her body suddenly felt severely inadequate. Lacking in every possible way compared to what he was offering her.

She pulled the edges of her blouse closed, and Dred responded quickly. He lifted off her and flopped down on the bed next to her. She could see his erection straining against his jeans. With an arm over his eyes, his breathed deeply.

“Can I ask you a question, Snowflake?” His voice was low, but not angry. And not angry was good. He reached for her hand.

“Sure,” she said and fastened two of the buttons on her blouse.

“What scared you enough to stop? What did I do?”

What did he do? It so wasn’t about him. It was her. Not being enough. “You got naked,” she replied.

Dred rolled onto his side and cupped her face with one hand. “You kind of got that started. I followed the lead. I don’t care that we stopped, but I am thinking if we understand why, next time we can . . . you know . . . do something differently.”

“Can you please stop being so f*cking perfect for a second?”

Dred laughed. “I’m clearly not perfect, Pix.”

“Well, from where I was lying, it sure looks like it.”

“Wait. Was it . . . I got naked and you got . . . what . . . shy?”

“You’re a pretty . . . intimidating guy. To look at, I mean. And I’m . . .”

“What? Perfect.”

“No,” she barked. “I’m small, and boney, and short, and—”

“Perfect.” He cut her off, switching their positions so that he lay on his back and she sat astraddle him.

Her core lined up with him perfectly, and the need to orgasm was building. She often got to this point, then backed away, embarrassed and ashamed. But with him looking at her like she was the only woman on the planet, that didn’t happen.

The need to grind clawed desperately at her resolve. With his eyes fully on her, Dred popped the button on her jeans. The word “stop” hovered in her throat. The soft vibration of the zipper being lowered brought her closer to the relief she sought. Did she want him to stop? Oh God. He pushed her jeans lower on her hips, exposing her underwear. Why the hell had she chosen the totally unsexy multicolored striped panties?

His stare burned through her, his mouth slightly open, his chest heaving. He lowered his thumb, stoking her through her panties, catching her clit. Pixie gasped, right on the edge of exploding.

She gripped his wrist, but couldn’t say no. Didn’t want to. Didn’t want to slip away from the closest thing she’d ever had to a truly wanted sexual experience. His thumb stopped moving, he released the pressure. No. That’s not what I want. How could she tell him without appearing a tease?

“Rule two,” Dred said gruffly.

He’d stop if she wanted him to. She knew it, even though his chest was flushed, his eyes heavy lidded. She wanted this man to give her something nobody else had. “Please.”

When his thumb returned to the circles, pressing firmly, sparks ignited inside her. She needed a little more . . . oh, God. His hips moved underneath her, pressing his hard length against her. Without thought, she moved against him, finding a rhythm and place where she could let go.

“Dred . . . please . . . I . . .” The pressure increased everywhere. In her core, between her legs.

“Fuck, Snowflake. Do it.” It sounded more like a command. “I want to see you come.”

And she did.

*

Watching Pixie fight against herself, and then explode against him left him teetering on the edge. That low-grade vibration in his balls wasn’t going anywhere and if she continued to rub against him, he might come in his jeans. In fact, he should. Show her how f*cking hot she was.

She’d collapsed on his chest, and stayed there. If it weren’t for the occasional kiss on his chest, he’d swear she was asleep.

The clock on the wall said he was all out of hours. Thankfully there hadn’t been any more snow since yesterday morning when he’d collected her so it promised to be a quick ride to the airport. He wasn’t ready to let her go. Miami seemed like a million miles away, and their time together suddenly felt as though it had been hurried and rushed. What he really wanted to do was fall asleep with her like this and stay that way for at least a couple more days.

He patted her back. “As much as I hate to say this, we need to go.”

Pixie sat up slowly and rubbed her eyes. “So soon?”

Dred sat up and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed her gently. “Unfortunately, yup. Thank you. For sharing all this with me.”

Pixie smiled shyly. “I think I should be thanking you. Are you going to be okay?”

Dread laughed. “As long as you don’t have a problem with masturbation, I’ll be fine.”