Opening Up
Page 74
He buried his face at the nape of her neck, breathing her in and then biting hard enough to leave waves of goosepimples in his wake. “So when your father, who has every fucking privilege and opportunity handed to him, is a shitty, hateful creature to a child who only wants his affection, it really gets to me. And it gets to me because it’s you.”
She turned to face him, taking his hand again.
“There are a handful of people in the world I’m irrationally protective of. You’re one of them. I can’t shove it away when an asshole like Gary Weston humiliates you the way he did.”
Uh-oh. “Tell me,” she said on a sigh.
The war between sharing and keeping whatever he’d done quiet ran riot over his features.
“I’m going to tell you something. Not because I am sorry for it, but because I heard what you said tonight and I want to live up to my promise.”
She narrowed her gaze at him.
“I punched him. Maybe twice. Not more than three times. But he said stuff, so there were mitigating circumstances.”
“Elaborate.”
He grinned and it lit his eyes. “I love it when you get mad. Goddamn.”
“Don’t try to eye fuck me. Just tell me what happened.” But she couldn’t hide the way a smile threatened at the corner of her mouth.
“I didn’t go to his shop. I went to a bar I heard he drank at. I tried to speak with him. It got emphatic. He tossed some insults. I’m a gentleman. I handled that. He won’t be speaking about you in public ever again. Trust that.”
While she was horrified, at the same time it wasn’t so very hard to admit part of her was comforted and, yes, titillated. He’d protected her. In a very elemental way. It was flattering and silly. And yet, once she’d experienced it she’d begun to crave it.
“You went there, he said I was a mouthy whore or whatever. No talent but a nice ass. You took exception and planted a fist in his face.”
“The first was a kidney shot. Then he called you a whore and I popped him twice more, square in the face. He dropped like a stone. When he recovered, we discussed what his expected behavior was. He accepted how serious I was. I’m positive this won’t be an issue. You don’t need his shop anyway.”
“No. I don’t.” PJ cupped his cheek and petted his beard. “But I do need you.”
He stood, pulling her to her feet. “Thank god. Come upstairs with me.”
Chapter Twenty-two
He pulled her upstairs to his bedroom as the energy between them tautened, heated, zinging along her nerves. PJ couldn’t wait for whatever he had in store for her.
“Strip.”
He sat, caressing her with his gaze.
Over the time they’d been together, she’d learned him. Taken cues from his reactions. Because she knew he liked to look at her, she took her time, meticulously stepping from her shoes and placing them in the corner.
Then she pulled the pins from her hair and it cascaded down around her face in waves. Each button down the front of the dress she wore opened with a twist of her fingers, exposing a little more of her skin until she shrugged from it, letting it slide off before stepping free.
“I’m really glad I had no idea what you were working with under that dress. More than your normal gorgeous body, that is.”
She looked up at him through her lashes with a smile. “Do you like? I saw this and thought it might hold appeal for you.”
Appeal.
“That’s a tame word for what it holds for me,” Asa said.
It wasn’t just that she wore stockings. She’d already worn them when they started seeing each other, but once it was clear how much he liked them she wore them more often, making sure to buy the French heels he thought were so sexy.
That night she wore an all-new ensemble. She tended to wear blues and pinks, which worked on her skin so well. Right then she was wrapped in black silk. The front of the garter belt laced up like a corset with deep green ribbons, echoed in the matching push-up bra with green accents.
She took the bra off first and then moved to where he sat. She perched a foot at the edge of his seat and he watched, breath held, as she unhooked and then rolled down the right stocking, which she laid across his lap while she did the left.
She revealed herself to him slowly, finally removing the belt, leaving her in nothing more than a pretty pair of black panties.
“You usually like to do this part yourself.”
He did indeed. Like unwrapping the best present he’d ever been given.
He stood, looking down into her face, struck with the weight of his blessings. A good weight.
He slid covetous hands all over her skin as he pulled the panties from her legs, loving the way she leaned on him as she stepped from them.
“Now this is perfect. You’re perfect.”
Her lips wobbled just a bit and he had to shove his anger at her father back yet again.
He kissed across her forehead, easing away the stress, delighting in the way she relaxed a little more with each touch.
“I’m going to have to insist all your attention be on me.” He set her back from his body, taking long moments to circle her, to stare at and touch all the fierce beauty she possessed.
Of course she had all her attention on him. It humbled and incited him every time. But he wanted to underline that this was theirs. No bullshit from the outside would be acceptable in this space.
He took her hand and pulled her toward his bed. “Sit.”
She did.
She turned to face him, taking his hand again.
“There are a handful of people in the world I’m irrationally protective of. You’re one of them. I can’t shove it away when an asshole like Gary Weston humiliates you the way he did.”
Uh-oh. “Tell me,” she said on a sigh.
The war between sharing and keeping whatever he’d done quiet ran riot over his features.
“I’m going to tell you something. Not because I am sorry for it, but because I heard what you said tonight and I want to live up to my promise.”
She narrowed her gaze at him.
“I punched him. Maybe twice. Not more than three times. But he said stuff, so there were mitigating circumstances.”
“Elaborate.”
He grinned and it lit his eyes. “I love it when you get mad. Goddamn.”
“Don’t try to eye fuck me. Just tell me what happened.” But she couldn’t hide the way a smile threatened at the corner of her mouth.
“I didn’t go to his shop. I went to a bar I heard he drank at. I tried to speak with him. It got emphatic. He tossed some insults. I’m a gentleman. I handled that. He won’t be speaking about you in public ever again. Trust that.”
While she was horrified, at the same time it wasn’t so very hard to admit part of her was comforted and, yes, titillated. He’d protected her. In a very elemental way. It was flattering and silly. And yet, once she’d experienced it she’d begun to crave it.
“You went there, he said I was a mouthy whore or whatever. No talent but a nice ass. You took exception and planted a fist in his face.”
“The first was a kidney shot. Then he called you a whore and I popped him twice more, square in the face. He dropped like a stone. When he recovered, we discussed what his expected behavior was. He accepted how serious I was. I’m positive this won’t be an issue. You don’t need his shop anyway.”
“No. I don’t.” PJ cupped his cheek and petted his beard. “But I do need you.”
He stood, pulling her to her feet. “Thank god. Come upstairs with me.”
Chapter Twenty-two
He pulled her upstairs to his bedroom as the energy between them tautened, heated, zinging along her nerves. PJ couldn’t wait for whatever he had in store for her.
“Strip.”
He sat, caressing her with his gaze.
Over the time they’d been together, she’d learned him. Taken cues from his reactions. Because she knew he liked to look at her, she took her time, meticulously stepping from her shoes and placing them in the corner.
Then she pulled the pins from her hair and it cascaded down around her face in waves. Each button down the front of the dress she wore opened with a twist of her fingers, exposing a little more of her skin until she shrugged from it, letting it slide off before stepping free.
“I’m really glad I had no idea what you were working with under that dress. More than your normal gorgeous body, that is.”
She looked up at him through her lashes with a smile. “Do you like? I saw this and thought it might hold appeal for you.”
Appeal.
“That’s a tame word for what it holds for me,” Asa said.
It wasn’t just that she wore stockings. She’d already worn them when they started seeing each other, but once it was clear how much he liked them she wore them more often, making sure to buy the French heels he thought were so sexy.
That night she wore an all-new ensemble. She tended to wear blues and pinks, which worked on her skin so well. Right then she was wrapped in black silk. The front of the garter belt laced up like a corset with deep green ribbons, echoed in the matching push-up bra with green accents.
She took the bra off first and then moved to where he sat. She perched a foot at the edge of his seat and he watched, breath held, as she unhooked and then rolled down the right stocking, which she laid across his lap while she did the left.
She revealed herself to him slowly, finally removing the belt, leaving her in nothing more than a pretty pair of black panties.
“You usually like to do this part yourself.”
He did indeed. Like unwrapping the best present he’d ever been given.
He stood, looking down into her face, struck with the weight of his blessings. A good weight.
He slid covetous hands all over her skin as he pulled the panties from her legs, loving the way she leaned on him as she stepped from them.
“Now this is perfect. You’re perfect.”
Her lips wobbled just a bit and he had to shove his anger at her father back yet again.
He kissed across her forehead, easing away the stress, delighting in the way she relaxed a little more with each touch.
“I’m going to have to insist all your attention be on me.” He set her back from his body, taking long moments to circle her, to stare at and touch all the fierce beauty she possessed.
Of course she had all her attention on him. It humbled and incited him every time. But he wanted to underline that this was theirs. No bullshit from the outside would be acceptable in this space.
He took her hand and pulled her toward his bed. “Sit.”
She did.
