Page 61 of Her Reluctant Hero
Chapter Eleven
Isabella parted her lips for his kiss. This wasn’t a lip-crusher, one of those kisses that told her he wanted her but that he hated the wanting. This one was—not soft, because nothing about Alex was soft, but tender, just a shadow of the overwhelming desire she’d received from him before. He brushed his fingertips over her cheek, so lightly the caress sent tremors through her.
He smiled against her and shifted, pressing her into the pillow, slanting his mouth over hers and just—kissing her. She hummed in the back of her throat, needing to discharge the energy spinning through her.
She stroked her fingers over his hair, the soft prickle of it adding another dimension, another layer of sensation to the slow, dreamy kiss.
His breath feathered against her cheek, the pulse of his heart against her arm as he rolled his tongue along hers.
Still he didn’t touch her, only kissed her. The last time she’d just kissed a boy had been when she didn’t know any better, didn’t know where these sensations could lead. Didn’t know that sex was about control. Learned that she could be the one in control.
Except with Alex. God, what was he doing to her? Was he trying to forge a deeper connection, stronger than she had already? Didn’t he understand how hard she’d worked to put her guard in place?
“Alex—”
“Shh.” He eased his lips along her jaw, then back up to her chin and down the line of her throat.
Even her fingers spasmed with pleasure as he brushed his stubble over sensitive nerves. “Can’t.” She said the word on a shuddering breath.
He palmed her jaw, turned her head to the side for better access to her throat. “Smell good,” he said.
When he touched his tongue to the area below her ear, her body heated, and she arched toward him, encouraging his touch. Instead he kissed her again, slowly, tasting every crevice of her mouth until her blood buzzed, her breathing sped up, her hands moved over his face and shoulders, without thinking.
It would hurt, yes, when he left her, if she opened herself to him this way. But she wasn’t backing away from this chance to be cherished. To be seduced.
He stroked her back and circled his fingers lazily, sending her tingling nerves directly where she needed his touch. She whispered his name, not a protest this time, and slid her leg along his. He applied only the slightest pressure at the small of her back, drawing her closer against his body.
He was warm and smelled so good, musky with that hint of soap beneath. His erection pressed against her through his boxers, and she teased him with her proximity, back and forth, until his breath became as ragged as hers. He rose over her, not taking his eyes from her as he dragged his fingers down her chest. She lay breathless, boneless, when he lowered his mouth to her skin, starting at the hollow of her throat and moving down, a combination of soft, firm lips and scratchy stubble. The moan pushed its way past her tongue, filled the room, vibrated the bed, and she gripped the back of his head as he shoved aside the lace cup and nuzzled her naked breast. Desire twinged through her, almost painful, as he plucked her nipple with his lips before settling into a deeper caress, a worshipful one, his hands on either side of her body.
Then, with a gentle bite to the underside of her breast, he slid his fingers into her thong. But instead of pushing her panties down, he closed his palms over her ass and lifted.
Languorous with what he’d been doing, she didn’t understand that he meant her to turn over. Of course, he was an ass man, he would want her in that position. She hated the stab of disappointment. Up till now it had seemed to be about her. Slowly she turned and shuddered with pleasure when he framed her thighs between his arms and blew across her naked skin. He chuckled at the gooseflesh he raised, then bent to kiss her spine at the small of her back, his caress just as careful, as worshipful, as his kisses to her mouth had been.
Her nerve endings exploded in quick bursts as pleasure shot out from each contact of his mouth, his chin. He slid his hands up her thighs and down again, without touching her, without caressing her swelling flesh, her body desperate for him.
“Alex, please.”
He nipped the curve of her ass and rose. She braced herself for his thrust, but instead he brushed his thumbs over the sensitive flesh where her buttocks met her thighs, and the wash of desire was so powerful she dropped her head back to the pillow.
“Don’t get comfortable,” he said and turned her onto her back with a flop, pulling down her thong. “I want to watch you.”
Suddenly she wished he’d taken her in the other position. What would he see in her face when he entered her, when he made her come? Would she be able to school herself against showing him too much, giving him too much power?
He sheathed and positioned himself at her entrance, watching her as he slowly pushed into her.
Desire radiated from every nerve he pressed against as he entered her. She arched her head back but he stopped and cupped her face in his palms.
“Watch me.”
She never thought looking into a man’s eyes—into Alex’s eyes—would be so hard, watching the flicker of emotions that only deepened her own, the longing, the pleasure, the need. She gasped as he filled her, then began to move. She wanted to close her eyes against it, to protect herself, to bring that wall back between them, but he challenged her as he moved over her, caressing her body with gentle strokes that only stoked the desire he’d already built. Keeping the same rhythm, he grasped her ass.
She shattered, was only vaguely aware of his urge for her to look at him, until he enfolded her in his arms, lifted her onto his thighs, still thrusting. Unable to hold her head up, she met his gaze, watched his eyes darken, deepen, heard the catch of his breath. She tucked her head against his shoulder as he gathered her close, shuddering with his own release.
He pulled out of her, but they stayed in the same position, as if moving would reveal something more of themselves than they’d already done. Finally, she slid sideways off him, not looking at him, gathering her dress.
What had they done? How could she face him after being so vulnerable in front of him?
She turned toward him, wiping her hair from her eyes with the back of her hand. She would not cover her nakedness, would not give him that satisfaction.
