Page 80 of The Truth Serum
“Yes,” she repeated. Then she stood up. With a simple shrug of her shoulders, she let her shift slip off her body. It clung for a moment, hanging on her breasts. She inhaled, lifting it higher, then let it slip down with her next exhale.
His gaze tracked it. His eyes were hot as they watched the fabric pause on her hips, then fall all the way down to pool at herfeet. She stood naked before him, and the flare of heat in his eyes kept her from feeling anything but desired.
Right now with him, she felt beautiful, seductive, and oh, so alive. It was as if the blanket of the last ten years had been pulled away. Or perhaps it was a protective coat that she stepped out of. Only one thought made her pause.
“Your ribs,” she said. “Will they—”
“They are nothing compared to my desire for you,” he said as he pulled her forward. “God, let me look at you.”
His gaze traced her curves, his hands skimmed over her collarbone and breasts. And his body grew taut. She knew enough of men to see the lift in his pants. He wanted her. And she wanted to see him. She wanted to know his possession. She wanted to touch him the way he once touched her.
“Take off your clothes,” she said.
He swallowed even as he levered himself upright. “Not everything off. Becca, I have wanted this for so long, I don’t trust myself.”
She stretched up her arms, lifting her breasts and breathing deeply for the first time in ages. It was so freeing to be naked. To be so before him, seeing the way his hungry gaze followed her every movement—it made her feel precious.
“Stay like that,” he said.
“What?”
He reached up and wrapped her left hand around one of the posts of the canopy. Then he tugged her other hand forward, setting it on the headboard. That made her lean down, her breasts dangling so delightfully in front of him.
He skimmed his hands down her arms then, around her breasts, to settle on her hips.
“Such a sight,” he murmured.
“Nate—”
“Don’t move.”
He cupped her breasts then. First one, then both. He drew them up, squeezing them, pinching her nipples, one after the other.
She gasped as sensation shot through her body. Her back arched and her spine lengthened. Everything in her was stretching for him, but her hands and her legs kept her back. All while he touched her everywhere.
He focused on her breasts, kneading them while she murmured in delight. Then he set his mouth to them. And as his tongue teased her nipples, she shivered. Her womb tightened reflexively, and she gasped when he began to suckle. One hand squeezed while his mouth pulled.
Fire rolled through her, up and down from her nipples to her womb, then flashing outward. Her breath came in gasps and her weight shifted on her feet. She didn’t want to be standing. She wanted more. She wanted…
He fell back on the bed, his one hand on her breast continuing to work. But the other hand slipped down her belly.
“Can you stay standing?” he asked. “Can you keep from crying out?”
She nodded not because it was a coherent answer but because she did not want him to stop what he was doing. She would say yes to everything—anything—so long as he continued. He must have understood because his free hand slipped lower. It pushed into her curls and slid between her thighs.
She bucked at the feel of something touching her there. Her legs spread without her willing it. Her body knew what he was doing, though her mind was whited out with sensation. His finger pushed between her folds. His fingers on her nipple pinched in a pulse that throbbed in every part of her body.
“Let me move,” she whispered. “Let me feel—”
His fingers curled and he thrust one inside her. She cried out, her mouth pressed against her arm to muffle the sound.
“Just feel,” he whispered.
She could do nothing else. His one finger thrusting in her, then pulling out. Then thrusting in again. In and out, first one finger, then more. Two fingers. In and out.
Her back arched, her mouth opened on a silent gasp.
In and out. He stretched her.
