Page 130 of Into These Eyes
“So much,” I breathe.
His eyes glint in the dim light as my other foot eases to the cool floorboards. I wait for him to rise, but his hands drift up the backs of my calves, his fingertips lingering behind my knees, his gaze locked with mine. He’s so incredibly beautiful like this, all raw emotion and vulnerability. And desire.
“This is how I wanted to take off your underwear that night.”
Breath rushes into my lungs on a gasp. With a torturously slow touch, his warm palms skim the backs of my thighs, his fingertips caressing my flesh as they rise higher and higher. The anticipation alone drenches my lace panties and curls my fingers around the short strands of his hair.
A quiet groan vibrates from my throat when his fingers reach their destination. Slipping beneath the fabric, he cups my bare backside, exploring the contours, kneading and stroking until my eyelids drift to half-mast. I don’t know what’s hotter. The way he’s touching me, or the hunger in his eyes while he does it.
Our gaze holds as he frees his hands and curls his fingers into the waistband, gradually drawing them down my thighs. The sensation flushes my skin and weakens my knees. When he finally breaks eye contact to help me out of them, my legs tremble. I know without a doubt he can see the dampness I’ve left behind. But I don’t care. Let him see what he does to me.
My fingers slip from his hair as he rises, and it’s impossible to hide the tremors as I trail them down his arms.
“Jamie, you’re shaking like a leaf.”
“Nerves,” I whisper, angling my gaze to his chest in the hope he can’t see how utterly pathetic I am. Thirty-two years old and I may as well be a fucking virgin. Now that the reality’s looming ever closer, how can I not wonder if it’s going to hurt all over again? Or if having sex with him will ruin everything that’s made our time together so wonderful over the past few weeks.
Gently taking my chin in his grasp, he forces my eyes to his. “Relax. We won’t do anything you don’t want to. I only want to make you feel good.”
Suddenly, he sweeps me into his arms, forcing me to cling to him as he carries me to the couch and takes a seat. Snuggling me sideways on his lap, he sinks a hand into my hair and angles my head, so I have no choice but to look at him.
“Talk to me,” he murmurs. “Remember your rule.”
God, it feels so good to be this close to him. He’s not angry or frustrated with me. He’s showing me how much he cares, that it’s not about my body, but what I feel and think. He’s showing me it’s more to him than just sex. “I’m scared. If my parents have taught me anything, it’s that getting close to someone only leads to pain.”
“Everything bad that happened with your parents was because they weren’t with the right person,” he states with conviction. “That was between them. This is between us. And wearewith the right person. So, forget that fear. Anything else?”
I open my mouth to say it’s not that simple, but close it again. Because he has a point. We weren’t torn apart by fate. Fate has thrust us together, almost as if it’s trying to make up for the mistake it made with our parents. I want to embrace that belief, but it’s not my only fear.
“I’m scared that this will change things, that we’re going too fast.”
“What scares me, after living a life where nothing changes, is that thingswon’tchange,” he says, his voice raw with emotion again. “We can’t go on ignoring this chemistry between us. The sparks are flying, ready to ignite one way or another. We can’t keep askingwhat if… we need to start living and feeling.” He presses his palm to my chest. “You can’t hide this huge heart of yours from me anymore, J.”
My hand tightens at the nape of his neck, his words penetrating the fear.
“And I don’t think we’re going too fast,” he continues. “I think we’ve been going painfully slow.”
“Slow?”
He lets out a huff of a laugh. “Let’s see … by my calculations, we’ve been on about twenty dates and a couple of mini-breaks.”
I chuckle. “What’re you talking about?”
“Dinner together every night,” he explains, his thumb brushing my cheek, “Weekends spent in each other’s company. Sound familiar?”
Trailing my fingers from his neck, I glide them down his chest and into the open gap of his shirt. When I stop at the first button, I undo it with steady fingers. As I undo the next button, and the next, I say, “I suppose … that’s a pretty convincing argument.”
His arm tightens around me, his eyes searching mine. “I see you, J. I saw you when I didn’t even know you. But now that I do, I never want to look away.”
His words make my heart jolt. “I see you, too.”
Before I can register what’s happening, I’m flat on my back, one hand trapped above my head in his grasp as he presses his body to my side, his eyes dark with hunger.
“I need some clarification on something,” he mumbles, that sexy, lopsided smile sending aching waves between my legs. “I’ve been wondering about that toy of yours.”
I gape at him. “Please don’t wonder anything about that.”
“I was wondering,” he insists, his voice broken with heat, “if your little toy can kiss you like this?”
