Page 51 of Unpacking Secrets

“You’re the boss,” he murmured, trailing his lips across my collarbone. “Tell me what you want.”

In reply, I reached for the zipper of his jeans, though my fingers grew clumsy when his teeth grazed the base of my throat. A fierce grin split his face when I fumbled and tilted my head to give him better access.

“If you don’t stop distracting me, I’m not going to be able to tell you a damn thing,” I gasped.

“My goodness, Juliet Morrison speechless? Now thatisa surprise.”

Henry drew back, giving me a lazy smile. Even with his head raised, his fingers stroked over my breast in a way that had my back bowing right off the bed.

“Henry!” The breathless exclamation tore past my lips as he rolled my nipple between his thumb and index finger.

“Yes, Juliet?”

When I pried my eyes open, he was looking down at me with a polite expression on his face, as though we’d been discussing the weather. Only the molten heat in his eyes betrayed how much he was enjoying this. That in itself was as arousing as the things he did with his hands.

I dropped my head back onto the pillow, mumbling, “I need you to get these jeans off. Right now.”

He grinned. “Mine or yours?”

“Yes!”

Even as I blurted out the word, Henry’s fingers danced down along my rib cage to the waistband of my jeans. He flicked the button open with annoying ease, given my inability to manage that move with his, then he let one fingertip hook under the edge of the denim to tease a fiery arc from one hipbone to the other.

I made a sound, something between bliss and frustration, but in the next second, he tugged my jeans and underwear down my legs. My eyes flew open again in order to watch him discard his own before he returned to my side.

“Is that better?” he asked, cocking a brow as he smiled down at me.

One of his palms slid upward from my knee to the flare of my hip so slowly that I thought I might ignite right then and there.

“Much better,” I breathed when his hand reached its destination, cupping the curls between my legs.

He watched my face while he stroked and teased, looking just as entranced by my response to these intimate caresses as he had been by my reaction to the more innocent ones.

My skin became exquisitely sensitive under his fingers as I arched and shifted, making little sounds of need that I couldn’t have held back if I tried—especially when he slid one finger inside me and curled it until my back bowed nearly enough to dislodge him. He only adjusted his position as he put this new discovery to good use.

Distracted as I was, I still couldn’t help but appreciate how his eternal patience translated into a level of concentration I’d never been the focus of before. It was like he was cataloging the results of each stroke of his fingers, each touch of his lips.

Eventually, he leaned down and nipped the edge of my jaw. My fingers tangled in his hair, clenching against his scalp. Before long, I was panting his name as the tension built, writhing helplessly while his hands and mouth moved over my skin.

When an explosive release finally shuddered through my limbs, I collapsed in a boneless heap and his touch turned soothing. Though I caught him staring at me when I managed to focus my eyes again, I was too blessedly limp to blush. His eyes were filled with something hot and hungry, something that obliterated any remaining trace of self-consciousness that might have lingered.

After catching my breath, I summoned enough strength to roll over and shove him onto his back, my hair falling like a curtain around us as I dropped my head to kiss him. When I wrapped a hand around his hard length, he groaned into my mouth.

“You’re killing me, Red,” he whispered.

I drew back with a jerk, my brows drawn together in concern that my plans might be foiled. “Do you have condoms on you? I should have thought of that earlier.”

He laughed as he smoothed one finger over the furrow between my eyebrows. I shifted slightly over him and he growled low in his throat before replying.

“Yes. Back pocket of my jeans.”

I released him to roll off the bed. When I glanced over my shoulder, he was studying my ass intently as I bent down to locate the condoms.

“Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?” he asked, his voice husky with desire.

My brows lifted as I returned to the bed. “Not really, no, but if you’re carrying these around, I’m going to guess you find me at least passably attractive.”

Though I was joking, Henry caught my wrist in a gentle but firm grasp as I knelt beside him.

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