Retreat
Page 45
He did have me. More of me than I’d ever let anyone have before. He had my attention and my time. He had my interest and my investment. He had my heart and my mind at war over him. One demanding that I leave him and the devastation that he would be responsible for in the dust, the other clamoring at me to open up, to embrace the memories we were bound to make together. We might not get forever together, but we could cram a lot into the moments we did get. They could be more important than any of the other ones I’d had with anyone else. He got me because I gave myself to him and I was about to give him so much more.
It wasn’t like anything was on display that he hadn’t seen already. He took my shirt off so carefully I almost didn’t feel the fabric leave until the mountain air hit my skin. I shivered as he rubbed the back of his knuckles along the edge of my boring cotton bra and tingled like only he could make me do when his other hand snaked around my back to release the hook.
My instinct was to reach up and cover myself as the bra fell away, but I couldn’t move my arms and the hungry look that cut into his face when I was exposed before him kept me still. I’d never had a man look at me like I was anything special before. Cy looked at me like I was everything special and that had my body warming and twitching with desire. I was used to being average and acceptable. Being more and magnificent was heady enough to make me drunk on swirling lust and longing.
“You’ve seen me naked, Cy. What’s the holdup?” My voice quivered as his palm skimmed across my lower ribcage and played teasingly below the top of my jeans. He flicked open my belt buckle and smirked at me.
“I haven’t been given many gifts in my life, so when I do get one I like to take my time getting the wrapping off of it.” His eyes glinted with sexy intent and humor. He wasn’t going to be rushed and I might die waiting for him to get to the good stuff.
“Our time is limited. You might want to keep that in mind.” I didn’t want to remind him that this was destined to end. That we were on borrowed time, working with stolen seconds. I felt there was a clock counting down, hanging over our heads, ticking away with every blink and every word uttered.
“I’m not going to worry about the time we don’t have. I’m going to focus making the time that we do have count.” He had my belt undone and my pants open before I could think of something fitting to say about his poignant declaration.
I put the hand of my uninjured arm on his shoulder as he crouched down in front of me and began to work on getting my boots off of my feet. The new position had his face directly in line with the part of me that had never been shy about getting all kinds of wet and ready when he was in the vicinity. I was on the verge of falling over again, only this time it had nothing to do with pain.
“I don’t know that I’m up for any strenuous activities at the moment, Cy. I’m not exactly in tip-top form.” I hated admitting it but I didn’t want to end up in the dirt on my ass, naked and sprawled out like an uncoordinated centerfold in front of him. My newly repaired ego couldn’t take a hit like that so soon. My wrist hurt when I moved it but the rest of me was all onboard for letting him do whatever the hell he wanted.
He rocked back a little bit so that he was sitting on his heels. Those eyes the color of an angry heaven swirled with passion and promise as he gazed up at me. His heavy hands landed on either side of my hips and slowly, oh so slowly, he started to peel away the dirty and tattered jeans down my legs. Once I was mostly naked he leaned forward so that his soft lips and scratchy face marked each jutting hipbone. His nose dragged a tantalizing trail along the top of my underwear and his breath lapped hotly against the cotton that was barely covering my aching clit and clenching center.
“Do you trust me, Leo?” It was a silly question. I hardly knew him, even if I felt like I understood him inside and out.
I shifted my grip off of his shoulder and let my fingers drift through his thick hair. It was slippery against my fingers—not in an unpleasant way—from whatever he used to keep it styled. I liked the idea that when I was done with him he was going to be ruffled and sexed up. I wanted to leave those marks on him.
“I trust what I know about you, Cy, which isn’t very much.” The last word ended up strangled and strained as his thumbs slipped inside the leg band of my panties and started rubbing in circles toward my damp folds and aching core. There was no hiding how much I wanted him or how effective his touch was at turning me on.
“You trust what I’ve given you, and you trust what I tell you. I’m telling you I’ve got you, Leo. I’m not going to let you fall or hurt you.”
Trust was huge for me. I didn’t give it lightly and I didn’t have a lot of it to spare. With him looking up at me, eyes bleeding promises and possibility, there was no way I could deny him anything . . . no way I could deny myself.
No Going Back
I never let anyone this close, physically or emotionally.
There was no going back from this. I could feel it and him all the way through me. There was life before Cyrus Warner and life after. The two didn’t even slightly compare and neither did any amount of pleasure I had experienced before this big, brooding mystery of a man. Every touch between us was a memory in the making and every word as he eased me in the water was a vow I knew he intended to keep.
He promised pleasure and passion.
He promised gratification.
He promised obliteration.
He promised adoration.
He promised a distraction from the pain that was still making my hand tingle and my fingers throb.
It wasn’t like anything was on display that he hadn’t seen already. He took my shirt off so carefully I almost didn’t feel the fabric leave until the mountain air hit my skin. I shivered as he rubbed the back of his knuckles along the edge of my boring cotton bra and tingled like only he could make me do when his other hand snaked around my back to release the hook.
My instinct was to reach up and cover myself as the bra fell away, but I couldn’t move my arms and the hungry look that cut into his face when I was exposed before him kept me still. I’d never had a man look at me like I was anything special before. Cy looked at me like I was everything special and that had my body warming and twitching with desire. I was used to being average and acceptable. Being more and magnificent was heady enough to make me drunk on swirling lust and longing.
“You’ve seen me naked, Cy. What’s the holdup?” My voice quivered as his palm skimmed across my lower ribcage and played teasingly below the top of my jeans. He flicked open my belt buckle and smirked at me.
“I haven’t been given many gifts in my life, so when I do get one I like to take my time getting the wrapping off of it.” His eyes glinted with sexy intent and humor. He wasn’t going to be rushed and I might die waiting for him to get to the good stuff.
“Our time is limited. You might want to keep that in mind.” I didn’t want to remind him that this was destined to end. That we were on borrowed time, working with stolen seconds. I felt there was a clock counting down, hanging over our heads, ticking away with every blink and every word uttered.
“I’m not going to worry about the time we don’t have. I’m going to focus making the time that we do have count.” He had my belt undone and my pants open before I could think of something fitting to say about his poignant declaration.
I put the hand of my uninjured arm on his shoulder as he crouched down in front of me and began to work on getting my boots off of my feet. The new position had his face directly in line with the part of me that had never been shy about getting all kinds of wet and ready when he was in the vicinity. I was on the verge of falling over again, only this time it had nothing to do with pain.
“I don’t know that I’m up for any strenuous activities at the moment, Cy. I’m not exactly in tip-top form.” I hated admitting it but I didn’t want to end up in the dirt on my ass, naked and sprawled out like an uncoordinated centerfold in front of him. My newly repaired ego couldn’t take a hit like that so soon. My wrist hurt when I moved it but the rest of me was all onboard for letting him do whatever the hell he wanted.
He rocked back a little bit so that he was sitting on his heels. Those eyes the color of an angry heaven swirled with passion and promise as he gazed up at me. His heavy hands landed on either side of my hips and slowly, oh so slowly, he started to peel away the dirty and tattered jeans down my legs. Once I was mostly naked he leaned forward so that his soft lips and scratchy face marked each jutting hipbone. His nose dragged a tantalizing trail along the top of my underwear and his breath lapped hotly against the cotton that was barely covering my aching clit and clenching center.
“Do you trust me, Leo?” It was a silly question. I hardly knew him, even if I felt like I understood him inside and out.
I shifted my grip off of his shoulder and let my fingers drift through his thick hair. It was slippery against my fingers—not in an unpleasant way—from whatever he used to keep it styled. I liked the idea that when I was done with him he was going to be ruffled and sexed up. I wanted to leave those marks on him.
“I trust what I know about you, Cy, which isn’t very much.” The last word ended up strangled and strained as his thumbs slipped inside the leg band of my panties and started rubbing in circles toward my damp folds and aching core. There was no hiding how much I wanted him or how effective his touch was at turning me on.
“You trust what I’ve given you, and you trust what I tell you. I’m telling you I’ve got you, Leo. I’m not going to let you fall or hurt you.”
Trust was huge for me. I didn’t give it lightly and I didn’t have a lot of it to spare. With him looking up at me, eyes bleeding promises and possibility, there was no way I could deny him anything . . . no way I could deny myself.
No Going Back
I never let anyone this close, physically or emotionally.
There was no going back from this. I could feel it and him all the way through me. There was life before Cyrus Warner and life after. The two didn’t even slightly compare and neither did any amount of pleasure I had experienced before this big, brooding mystery of a man. Every touch between us was a memory in the making and every word as he eased me in the water was a vow I knew he intended to keep.
He promised pleasure and passion.
He promised gratification.
He promised obliteration.
He promised adoration.
He promised a distraction from the pain that was still making my hand tingle and my fingers throb.
