She hesitated as her instinct kicked in to check for an escape route, before she lowered herself to the cushions. He noticed, and she felt his hand press between her shoulders as he bent and whispered in her ear. “Stay right there.”

The low resonance of his voice rumbled through her and settled somewhere in the pit of her stomach, remaining as a quiet force. “Was that an order or a threat?”

“You choose.”

A small laugh escaped. The piped edge of the cushion pressed to her cheek and his hand remained firm at the top of her spine.

“I was teasing…you do this thing where you hesitate and sum things up before doing anything outside of your sphere of control.”

She lifted her head.

“You’re moving.”

The cushions sank as he sat alongside her. Two strong hands gripped her shoulders, working on her tight muscles.

“Good, good, good. We’re starting exactly as I thought. You’re wound like a spring and reacting as if having your shoulders massaged is something akin to having ice dropped down your shirt.”

“Yeah, well…”

“Yeah, well, nothing at all. This is an exercise in desensitization. I’ve been reading about it. It’s impossible to feel anxiety and relaxation at the same time, so I’m going to massage you. As you start to relax, you’ll lose some of your anxiety about being touched. You haven’t been touched well, so you startle too quickly. I think we should try to break down some of that flight response so that you move towards a touch rather than jerk away.”

Her breath caught and that little burn of emotion started up in the back of her throat. He’d been reading up about it to help her? Nobody had done anything like that for her…ever. She felt his hands working her shoulders, pushing deeper as they warmed up her muscles. “Ow!”

“That one got in, huh?”

“Yeah, that hurt.”

“It won’t hurt so much if you relax, Marlo. Still that busy mind. I can practically hear the cogs whirring inside your head.”

She lifted her head and immediately his hand firmly guided it back to the pillow.

“Stay there.”

“Okay.”

His thumbs dug in a little deeper, and she groaned. “You are so overdue for this, Marlo. Your shoulders have more knots than a macramé plant hanger.”

“Macramé! Is that a kiwi thing?”

“More a seventies thing.”

“I’ve never heard of it…what is it?”

“It’s a method of textile making that uses knots rather than weaving or knitting. It’s an ancient craft but the hippies embraced it and made it popular. Think lots of twine tied in knots, add fringes and beads, and you’ve got yourself a decorative wall hanging, or a poncho, or a plant hanger. Mum used to teach macramé at the CWI—that’s the Country Women’s Institute. About the only piece that made it through our childhood was the plant hanger Mum made. Clive, my brother, and I used to take great pleasure in deconstructing it. We’d spend ages undoing the knots and messing about with the twine. Poor Mum would have to spend her evenings knotting away, recreating it.”

“Should we be bringing your mother and brother into this?”

Adam laughed. “Probably not. Now, empty your mind. Completely. The only thing allowed in your head is white space—or you can make it a color, but no patterns, okay? No stripy wallpaper or murals, just a painted empty room. No background music. It’s a void in there, understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And I forbid you to speak.”

“You—”

“Hush. No thinking now. Let yourself feel my hands.” His fingers roamed her neck and shoulders, deepening and pushing before easing off when her retraction from his touch indicated she was at her pressure limit. He shifted and straddled her right at the junction of her thighs, and she couldn’t prevent that instinctive freeze.

“Oops, easy there. Okay with this?”

Very okay. “Yes, sorry, I’m good.”

“Right, off with this, it’s getting in the way.” He pushed the shirt up her back, deftly unhooking her bra, letting the back strap fall to her sides. “Arms up,” he ordered. As she obeyed, he flipped the T-shirt over her head. With that, she was topless. Still laying on her stomach, but topless. That was a rehearsed move. Immediately he returned to work on the muscles in her shoulders and slowly make his way down her spine. As he progressed, her breath quickened, and no amount of controlled and calculated breathing was going to calm that storm.

He slid himself from her thighs down to her calves, the movement followed quickly by the slight scratch of the slider running down the zipper of her skirt.

“Let’s lose the skirt,” he said, tugging at the sides and working it down her legs. “What the heck, these cute little knickers—oh. Oh, that tiny bit of lace and the bow works for me, but the knickers have to go sometime, so they might as well join the skirt and leave now.”

She pressed her thighs into the mattress, trying to slow the strip. This morning, before dawn, in dimly-lit, semi-sleep, it had been different. Now the room was bright, and her mind was going nuts. She was back to feeling shy and uncertain. “Adam, I’m not sure.”

“Of course you’re not, hon. That’s what I’m here for. Let me convince you.”

“How come you still have your clothes on?”

“How come you’re asking questions when I asked you not to talk?” His hand was at the back of her head again, pressing firmly down. With his hot breath in her ear and the buttons of his shirt imprinting her spine, he pressed the weight of his chest against her back. She heard one word. “Stay.”

She nodded. Yes.

“Good girl.”

He resumed his massage, and she tried not to squirm when he reached her buttocks. A flush warmed her face, and she buried it deep in the pillow, only to have the same warmth spread over her—what was he saying?—her gorgeous round butt that he wants to kiss? And then he did and, for extra measure, finished the kiss with a quick nip before instructing her to roll over.

He raised himself to his knees to allow her to turn beneath him. When she did, her breath hooked. Her inner governor was throwing up hazard lights and warning alarms until Adam’s steady voice composed her. “I can hear those cogs whirring again. Empty your mind, Marlo.”

She completed the turn and lay on her back; he resumed his position across her.

He ran the backs of his knuckles across her stomach, never taking his eyes from her face. “Does it bother you that I’m still clothed while you’re lying there all glorious and naked?”

“Yes.”

“Because I could happily sit here all night and look at you.”

“Perhaps I’d like to look at you, too.”

His answering grin filled her with pleasure. He reached for her hands and took them up to the top button on his shirt, spreading his arms wide. “At your mercy.”

With deft fingers, she undid the buttons and pushed the shirt from his shoulders. He shrugged it to the floor. She kept her hands up on his chest, circling and stroking down his stomach, smiling as he gasped and sucked in when she reached the top button of his jeans. She looked up at his face, and they locked eyes.

“Oh, God, don’t look at me like that.”

She grinned before returning to the button fly of his jeans. Steadily she worked her way down, pausing to look at him before unfastening each one. He stayed her hand as she reached the last button. “I’ll have to stand to get these off.”

She watched as he removed his jeans and underwear. And oh, yeah, it looked like he wanted her. He calmly straddled her again, his gaze never leaving her face. She had tensed beneath him, which didn’t go unnoticed.

“What happened, Marlo?”

Questions? Was he going to put everything on hold and dig into her head again? “Nothing, I’m good.”

He was smiling. “Hey, we’ve got to be honest with each other. Does being naked like this bother you?”

“Lying here, you on top of me, talking, no clothes…it is a bit weird for me.”

“So is that what troubled you?”

“Well, looking at you, sitting there with that great hard-on...”

“I’m glad you think it’s great. But you think I should cover up, is that it?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know!”

“You don’t think if I reach around here—” he let his forefinger tease along the junction of her tightly closed thighs, “—I won’t find that you’re a little bit damp, a little bit hard-on yourself?”

She tried to wriggle from beneath him, but he clamped his thighs around hers and held her in place. Her pulse climbed a notch. She bit into her bottom lip, trying to hide her arousal.

“So what is it now?”

Had he picked up on that little snag? “It’s all the scrutiny.”

“Tell me more?”

“You look at me like you want to devour me, and I don’t know how I should respond.”

He grinned, and she pushed at his chest. “I’m glad that message is getting through. Is there anything else?”

“Yeah, because, you see…I don’t know what to do,” she said.

“Oh, okay. That’s pretty normal when we don’t really know each other. Everyone feels like that.”

She nodded. Yes, he understands.

“I expect you have limits.”

“I don’t know. Limits? I’m not sure what you mean.” Her heart stepped up a gear, thudding in her chest. Just the one limit…no cops.

“Oops, there we go, that little tightening around your eyes.” He touched near her temple for emphasis. “You’re anxious. What was that limit we struck?”

Her teeth grabbed into her lip again.

He’d hit a rut. Time to back up.

“What I mean is, if something doesn’t feel right for you or makes you uncomfortable, you tell me, okay? We can only trust each other if we’re totally honest. That’s the foundation that we can build on. Never be coerced, and don’t do anything that disturbs you because you think it’s what I want.” He winked at her. “Having said that, I may want to push those limits at some stage, because I’m a man, and my ego tells me I know what’s best for you. But that’s not what we’re about today.”

Her hot, soft eyes held his gaze.

“Keep doing that, and I’m going to fall right on in.”

“Keep doing what?” Her mouth quirked slightly, and she giggled.

Breakthrough! She giggled! Her happiness rippled right through him.

She cocked her head. “You shivered. Are you cold?”

“Never cold with you around.” He skimmed his hands up her body, bringing them to rest under her head, cradling her as he pressed his lips up to her ear. In their short time together, he’d noticed she really responded to the ear thing. He took her earlobe, dragged it between his tongue and teeth. She shuddered beneath him, and in that movement, she’d freed herself of anything holding her back.

He moved to her mouth. Nothing restrained her response now. Her tongue reached for his, and they entwined and plunged. Continuing down to her breasts as he pressed himself between her thighs, he felt like an overstimulated teenager. He cupped one breast, drawing the nipple into his mouth, and had to pull his hips away from hers. At this rate he was never going to hold it together.

Her hand reached down to rub across the head of his cock, teasing, sliding along, and this time his own rough groan drifted into the night. He lifted his head, grabbed her wrist. “Hell, Marlo, it’s going to be over in seconds if you keep that up.”

And she smiled—pure, wicked, fun. He released her hand and she gripped him again.

He seized one wrist. “For the record, you asked for this,” he growled at her as he reached for the other, capturing them both in one hand. In a swift move, he raised them above her head and looked down at her, holding, waiting for something to give. Their gazes met, and her eyes narrowed, her mouth ever-so-slightly parted. Out came the tip of her tongue. He shook his head as she traced it slowly around her lips. “Oh, game on, little tiger.”

Keeping her hands locked above her head, he dove back to her breasts, his mouth on one, his spare hand attending to the other. Her hips pushed into him. Oh, here we go. He lifted his head. “Marlo. Okay?”

“Don’t stop.”

“So not stopping, but I need that hand back, so you behave yourself.”

She giggled again. When did she become a giggler?

He released her wrists. “Arms stay right up there. Do not move.” His fingers stroked down the inside of her arm and across the smooth hollow of her armpit, making her twitch and shiver. “Ticklish?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“I’ve never really looked at armpits before.” He kept tracing his fingers from the inside of her elbow, down her arm, across her armpits, and over her ribs. “And yours look so unbelievably delicious.” He bent his head and kissed the trail he’d made with his fingers.

“Adam, please.”

He lifted his head. “Please, what?”

“Please, Adam.”

“Tell me what you want.”

“Stop teasing me.”

He looked at her fingers bunched into two tight fists, trying so hard to do as she was asked. He moved quickly down her body, reached beneath her knees and in one neat movement pressed her thighs open. He traced her with one finger. “So very wet. Is this what you want?”

“Yeah. More.”

“Greedy.” He teased her with his finger around her swollen lips, stroking, enjoying the increasingly urgent press of her hips as she tried to get his finger inside. Then she held still, and the fact that she remembered from the previous time made him smile, made his cock even harder than he thought possible. He slid one finger into her, where she was all hot and swollen and slippery, and felt her grind against his hand.

“More,” she rasped.

He parted her labia, and a second finger joined his first. He pushed slowly inside her, curving his fingertips as he drew back out and dragged with them a delicious moan from deep within her. The next time he did it, he added his thumb to her clit, and the new mix nearly threw her right over the edge.

Her fists unfurled, and she grabbed his shoulders, trying to pull him up and into her. Her panting and begging for release made him ache. He wanted to keep going with his hand, make her come, but that other brain—the one that kicked in when his cock got hard—was calling for something different.

With one hand firmly on her hip, holding her steady, he gradually slowed the pace over the next few strokes. When he withdrew his fingers, her muscles spasmed and grabbed at them, trying to trap them inside.

Marlo lifted her head. “Adam, you’re kidding me.”

“Marlo…”

“Why are you stopping?”

“Pause.”

“Pause? What are you talking about? I didn’t think men had a pause button at this point.”

“Losing your self-control?” he teased.

“I think I hate you!” She pursed her lips into a mock-pout.

“I think I can change that opinion.” He climbed off the daybed and reached for his jeans.

“Adam, what are you doing?”

Holding his jeans in front of him, he turned and looked at her, his gaze dragging across her body and back to her face. That face. That lovely, lustful little tiger that has emerged from the frightened wee kitten…and it’s all angry and confused. He smiled. “One of us is trying to be responsible.”

“I don’t think it’s responsible. I think it is probably quite dangerous to leave someone in the state I’m in.”

“The males of the species have been trying that line for centuries. It didn’t work for them, either.” He fumbled through the pockets of his jeans and pulled out a foil packet, waving it at her.

She grinned, and a faint pink tinged her cheeks. “Oh, right, I see. Well, put it on, quick.”

“Quick?”

“Yeah, because a girl can cool off, you know.”

“Go off the boil?” He grinned.

She grinned back. “If you like.”

He slowly rolled the condom on before moving back over the top of her, his lips barely touching her ear. “If you go off the boil, I’m going to take so much pleasure—” he slid one hand between them, “—in bringing you back to a low simmer.” His fingers barely traced her inner thighs. “Then increasing the heat until you return to the boil.” With one finger, he pressed firmly on her clit, and her hips jerked. “Oh, there we are, nearly cooking again.” His finger slipped back inside her. “Now, what part of the recipe are we up to?”

“I think you’re at the right part.”

“Sure feels like it.” He withdrew his fingers, and, with both hands beneath her thighs, guided them open and nestled his hips between. Taking hold of himself, he pressed his cock at her entrance, pushed in only an inch or two, and waited. She was grabbing short snatches of breath as he leaned over her to lick her ear as he continued to push into her.