Her hand relaxed the grip on his T-shirt, and she buried her face in his chest. “You?”
“Hope to die.” He rocked her from side to side and ran his hand over her back and neck.
“It’s not funny, I just want…I want…” She massaged the spot where she’d gripped his shirt, as if to iron out the wrinkles.
“Shhh.” Tilting her chin with his finger, he brushed his thumb across her mouth. “Don’t talk. Look at me, sweetheart.” Her eyes met his and he nearly choked. “I want to kiss you.” He dipped his head, hesitated a split second, and then kissed her for all he was worth.
Marla’s world tilted on its axis. When he’d kissed her this morning, she’d been sure it was the best kiss of her life. Now that wasn’t true. This was no mere kiss. The heat of their two bodies formed and melted, churned and flamed. She gripped his broad shoulders and gave herself up to him. He had a fistful of her hair in one hand, gripped her bottom with the other, then slid down, down, onto his back.
Gasping for air, she drew away, then hated herself for the instant of lost contact. Her mouth found his again. She never wanted to stop, never—she wanted to drown in him. The kiss went on, went deeper.
He stilled. She held her breath. “What?”
“I need to see you, Danaher. All of you.” His fingers stroked her cheeks, curled behind her ears, and he sucked her bottom lip. “I want to look at you. Please. Let me see you. Don’t torture me.”
White-hot heat filled her, molten metal flowed into every tiny, empty crevice. Without analyzing, she pushed away from him and pulled off her sweater, then her tank top.
Dwayne tucked his fingers under the top edge of her plain white bra and tugged it free when her hands flew behind and unhooked it. “Sweet, Jesus.”
Marla knew as sure as the earth was round that Dwayne found her beautiful and desirable. His groan, the grateful watery shimmer in his blue eyes a clear declaration. He couldn’t be faking it. She leaned in to give him access to her breasts when he reached for her, arched her back with ecstasy at his touch. “Oh, I want…”
His smile had the power to melt granite. “What do you want, beautiful. Tell me.”
Never having been so sure of anything else in her life, she spoke the words freely and honestly. “You, Dempsey, I want you.” The depth of her passion overwhelmed her. More alive than she’d ever been, she said, “Do what you said this morning, say you want to make love to me.”
He crushed her against his chest with a satisfied chuckle. “What do you think, Danaher?”
She melted against him. “I think…I can’t think. I’ve forgotten how to think. I don’t want to think, I just want to feel.” She slid her hand under the hem of his shirt. “Why did you put this on?”
“Your orders.”
“Since when do you do what I tell you?”
He shifted her away. Got to his feet, pulled the shirt over his head, and threw it on the floor. His arms went around her back and under her knees when he lifted her. “I’m going to do exactly what you tell me to do for the rest of the night.”
Her heart bounced into her throat at the feel of his hard, bare chest pressing against her breast. She gasped, “Oh, be careful, your…” She bit her tongue.
“My…?”
“I’m too heavy.”
“Like hell you are.”
And without being cognizant of exactly how it happened, they were in his bedroom, on his bed, and he lay on top of her devouring her lips, her throat, her shoulders, while he held her hands captive, fingers laced together above her head.
She squeezed his hands and said, “Undress me. Touch me everywhere. Be slow.” Tremors slithered upward from her thighs.
“Yes, ma’am, I’ll take as long as you want. I’ll do whatever you want.” On his knees, eyes burning into hers, his hands whisked ever so lightly across her breasts and abdomen. The intensity of his gaze stole her breath away when he tugged her stretchy yoga pants below her hips and smiled.
A warm, delicious fog descended on her brain. Desire and deep need burned in every cell of her body. His lips and hands were everywhere. His warm breath brushed across her skin from her neck to her knees and had her writhing, begging for more. His name: Dempsey, Dempsey, Dempsey rolled off her lips time and again.
Dismantling her piece by piece, he smoothed every sharp edge, sealed every cold hollow place, then put her back together again, whole, complete, better, safe.
Stroking a rough hand down the side of her face, he rasped, “Do you want me, Danaher? Do you want me now?”
She smiled with her lips and her eyes. “Yes, please.”
Nestled together with her like two spoons in the silver drawer brought home to Dwayne the emptiness of the past six years of aloneness. He ran his fingers down her side, then snaked his arm between her breasts and kissed her ear. He could stay like this forever with her against him, warm, soft, yielding.
“Are you asleep?” He nipped her neck and buried his nose in her hair.
“No. I may never sleep again.”
She shifted, but he dragged her back tighter against his belly. “Don’t move. This is where you belong, here next to me. The only thing wrong with this picture is the varmint snoring with his nose in my neck.” If he moved a fraction he’d squash the miniscule creature.
“Skip’s not a varmint. He’s a critter.”
At the sound of his name, Skipper scrambled to his feet and whined. Dwayne rolled his shoulders with relief.
Marla patted his arm. “I have to take him out.”
“Let him pee on the floor.”
“He won’t. He’ll just keep nagging until I get up.” She lifted his arm and pulled away from his warmth. “Do you have a bathrobe
