* * *
Breathless, Abigail was glad Vaughn held on to her because her knees went liquid at his promise.
She’d made her desire plain. Taken control of her wants. And this incredibly sexy man pledged to deliver all of it. She shivered with longing as his hands spanned her hips, pulling her to him.
He felt strong. Immovable. His body was a testament to physical training. Yet he’d been so tender with his kiss in the woods. So thoughtful with her tonight.
Now, she wanted all that delicious male muscle around her. Enveloping her. Holding her. She arched up on her toes and kissed him, the scruff of beard a gentle abrasion to her chin and cheeks, depending how she shifted against him. For a moment, she breathed him in. The scent of woodsy soap and musky man, the sensual glide of his tongue along her lower lip.
Teasing, tempting, tasting.
Then, the kiss went a little wild. A groan of hunger from him. A sigh of pleasure from her. Fingers combing through his thick hair, she couldn’t feel enough of him. She kissed a path along his cheek and his jaw, her body melting everywhere he touched her. Her dress felt paper-thin, the heat of his body setting hers aflame.
He walked them backward toward the bed, falling with her onto the king-size mattress, taking her weight so she settled gently into the soft red duvet printed with a gray-and-white Aztec design.
“Are you okay?” Vaughn asked, a soft whisper in her ear. “I want to be careful with you.”
His teeth nipped the tender lobe, sending a quiver down her spine. Her hair spilled all around them, some of the curls still clinging to his shoulders as he angled back to unfasten her skirt.
“I’m perfect.” She reached to work on the buttons on his shirt, wanting to feel his skin without any barrier. “I want more. I want to see you.”
His green eyes tracked hers, thoughtfully assessing. Or maybe seeing how serious she was about that.
“That feeling is mutual.” He raised up on his elbow, then all the way to a sitting position. “But since tonight is all about you, I’ll go first.”
“Slowly,” she blurted. Because she was having such an incredible track record with getting what she wanted tonight she might as well go for broke.
A darkly masculine smile made her feel faint with yearning. But he unfastened one button after another. Taking his time. “I like this sensual streak I’m beginning to see.”
She tugged a pillow under her head to make herself more comfortable, watching his talented hands work. “I’m an artist, remember? I have a fondness for appealing lines and angles.”
Stripping off his dress shirt, he wore a fitted white tank beneath it. He reached behind him to tug that over his head, tossing both onto the chest at the foot of the sleigh bed.
Vaughn clothed was a sight to behold.
Vaughn with no shirt was a vision of athletic male grace. Tattoos swirled and danced on his collarbone and chest. Tribal art in black work, she thought at first. But as she looked closer there were names inked into those graphic swirls. Dates.
Her heart squeezed in recognition. Understanding.
He was covered with a vibrant pattern of losses.
She didn’t need to ask to know. Shifting to her knees, she leaned closer to kiss the places where Vaughn had etched a memorial to patients, maybe, and to the brothers lost in Afghanistan.
Too many.
For a moment, he allowed the gentle tribute of her lips on his skin, combing his fingers through her tousled hair. But then he edged away to meet her gaze.
“Do I get to see you now?” His hands bracketed her hips, thumbs retreating just a little way under the hem of her T-shirt, where he touched bare skin.
He sought to redirect her, she thought, unwilling to share stories about those names on his body. She understood about sharing loss in small doses. Understood how much it could hurt.
So she let him set the pace where his past was concern. Instead, she focused on his thumbs grazing her expanding waist, his touch causing delicious shivers. Pleasure coursed through her veins, thick and hot.
With it, however, came a hint of reservation.
“My body isn’t the stuff of male fantasy these days,” she reminded him, sinking back on her heels a bit.
“You, of all people, must know how thoroughly pregnant bodies have captivated the artistic imagination for centuries.” He molded his hands to her body under her shirt, feeling the curve of her stomach and hips. “A woman is never more beautiful than when she’s carrying a new life inside her.”
Her throat burned a little at his sweet words. And gave her the courage to strip off her gray T-shirt, revealing her pink satin bra, a splurge she’d made with the commission check to accommodate her newly generous breasts.
“Slowly,” he reminded her, his gaze fixed on her body, his voice rougher than it was a moment before. “I have a fondness for curves.”
A smile pulled at her lips. She raised up on her knees again, confidence renewed. She flicked open the clasp on the bra, letting the cups part so she could shrug off the straps.
“So beautiful.” The whispered reverence inflamed her skin just before he kissed one tight peak. Chased a circle around the center with his tongue.
Her body ached for him with a new, heightened need. Heat pooled between her thighs and she pressed herself tighter to him, wanting more.
She let her hands roam all over him, tracing the ridges of muscle and exploring the dips and hollows that came with them. She felt the hiss of breath between his teeth as he switched from one breast to the other, drawing on her harder, taking her fully into his mouth.
Allowing her hands to wander lower, she skimmed the intriguing planes of his abs before she ran into his belt. With impatient fingers, she made quick work of the buckle, the hook,
