Page 42 of Compulsion

“I know,” I promise.

Dane is nothing like the men who have hurt me. The men I’ve been drawn to despite my head knowing better than mytraitorous body. I can’t seem to help making myself their victim, and something about me must alert them to the truth of what I am: prey.

But Dane is different. He’s everything I never dared to dream I could have.

I won’t ruin this connection with my sick compulsions.

So, I melt into his muscular arms and allow myself to lean into his strength. He’s so much more powerful than I could ever hope to be.

The thought of my helplessness to resist him makes my core pulse with dark desire. My lips still beneath his caresses for a tense moment of pleasure and shame.

He must think I’m getting scared again, because he strokes my hair in response, petting me as though I’m a spooked animal. The tender care he’s showing me draws a shudder from deep in my chest, and my eyes sting. I keep them resolutely shut and master the bizarre urge to cry. Instead, I focus on the softness of his full lips on mine, the hot flick of his tongue as he traces the shape of my mouth.

I sigh and open for him, welcoming him deeper.

He enters my mouth in a tentative stroke, testing me. When I don’t recoil in fear, he kisses me more boldly, taking me with firm confidence.

I flower open for him, and to my surprise, my body responds to his careful, gentle treatment. Warmth pulses between my legs. It’s not the painful throb of full arousal, but it’s pleasant.

Safe.

“I only want you too,” I pant against him. “Only you, Dane.”

He seals my lips with his, and he plunders my mouth, as though he’s savoring the taste of his name on my tongue. His hand cradles the back of my head, holding me like I’m made of porcelain as he ravages my mouth.

The dichotomy draws a shiver to the surface of my skin, and a fine tremor races over me. I’m protected, cherished. No one can hurt me while Dane is holding me in his strong arms. They shelter me as though I’m a precious, fragile treasure that he’s shielding from harm.

I release a soft cry of loss when he tears his mouth from mine, but his lips are immediately on my heated flesh once again. He kisses his way down the column of my throat, featherlight brushes like a butterfly’s wings. My fingers spear through his dark hair, tugging him closer, inviting him to mark me with his teeth.

But he remains achingly gentle with me.

I take a deep breath and inhale his spicy cedarwood scent. It reminds me that this is Dane. I can be good for him. His tender care touches something deep in my heart, even if it does little to incite arousal at my core.

Taking another calming breath, I force my fingers to loosen in his hair. This seduction will be slow and sweet, and I refuse to allow my perversions to darken the intimacy between us.

He keeps one hand cradling my nape as the other skims up my thigh, slowly pushing the hem of my dress up to expose my bare legs. He doesn’t pause to ask for permission, but his movements are slow. I could stop him with nothing more than a word of refusal at any time.

And even though I’m barely aroused physically, I don’t want to refuse this connection.

His fingertips brush over my pale pink, cotton panties, and I sigh into his mouth when he resumes our deeper kiss. I make little humming noises as he rubs my clit through my underwear in a confident but gentle rhythm, coaxing out my pleasure.

My inner muscles give a weak flutter because this isDane.My white knight. My gorgeous protector.

But it’s not enough to make me wet. I’m not throbbing for him, and the soft sounds I’m making are meant for his benefit rather than giving voice to my own passion.

I encourage him to continue with hungry flicks of my tongue against his, urging him on.

He releases a low hum that rumbles through me, and my clit pulses once in response to the primal sound.

More than anything, I want to please him. I want him to want me.

One thick finger slips past the band at the edge of my panties, finding my heated folds. He strokes my clit directly, and I gasp into his mouth at a soft burst of pleasure. It dances through me like dandelion seeds on the wind, gentle and calming rather than sweeping me up in a tempest of churning lust.

He slowly penetrates me, but I’m not wet enough to ease his entry. My inner walls close, clamping down on the intrusion of his finger and refusing to accommodate him. Pain lances my core, and I can’t quite manage to swallow my whimper.

He breaks our kiss. His heavy brows are drawn together, and his mouth is tight with restraint. “Did I hurt you?”

“Don’t stop,” I plead, crushing my lips to his so that he won’t be able to see the fine lines of discomfort around my eyes.

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