Strip.
The word shouldn’t make a woman shiver. It did.
She should have told him no way. Who wanted to try on clothes after escaping death?… except a strange urgency possessed her.
I almost died. Again.
And while she’d ultimately saved herself, with a surprise pugilistic skill, if not for Fabian’s intervention things might have ended very differently.
Was it crazy to want to celebrate the fact that she lived with the man she loved?
Loved?
When the hell had that happened?
Or, more important, did she recall a moment when she didn’t? Had it happened the first night he’d saved her? Perhaps love had struck during their first kiss?
Did the when matter? She couldn’t claim they were strangers anymore. Over the course of this week, they had spent every moment they could together discovering each other and, in an odd sense, discovering herself.
She liked seafood. Hated broccoli. Loved action flicks, made gagging noises during the emotional parts. As Fabian explored her, body, mind, and soul, she learned not only about herself but also about him. And in the process, she’d fallen in love.
The how and why really didn’t matter. The end result was the same. She loved this guy, furry split personality and all, and if he wanted to ogle and touch and taste her in a change cubicle where she’d have to remain silent lest they get discovered, then so be it.
Why make him wait?
Having him crowd the space made her ability to strip interesting. Facing him, she raised her arms and smiled as he stripped the shirt from her, leaving her clad in an ill-fitting bra that had her breasts hanging out over the cups.
“Those poor beauties,” he murmured as he cupped them and stroked a thumb over the peaks. Reaching around to her back, he undid the clasp, freeing them.
Next went her pants, which proved a tad more difficult given they were a size too small. Unsnapping them first, she shoved them down past her hips before she sat on the bench in the small room. He crouched before her and pulled them off the rest of the way. That left only her panties.
Rip. Nope. Those were gone, too, leaving her naked to his view. But she didn’t feel cold, not when the heat of his gaze seared her skin.
He stood and grabbed the silky undergarment from the hook. She went to her feet, and he draped it over her head, silent, and yet did he really need to say anything when the fire in his gaze said it all?
She put her arms through the armholes so that the delicate negligee hung by spaghetti straps. The silky fabric hugged her skin, molding her curves, especially her erect nipples.
The heat between them practically set the air on fire.
She leaned back. She had no choice. She needed the wall to brace herself because her knees no longer wanted to work. His hungry gaze made her tremble.
“So beautiful.” He breathed the word, admiration not only clear in his eyes but also in the impressive bulge at his groin.
Words were cheap. Actions, though, actions led to bliss. “Show me.”
For a moment, she thought he might kiss her. She knew by now that he was a man who loved to nibble. But he surprised her by dropping to his knees again.
There was something extremely powerful in his actions, a supplicant before her. A man who wasn’t afraid to worship.
His big hands clasped her thighs, spreading them, exposing her wet sex to his gaze. She trembled and more liquid honey moistened her nether lips.
“Mine.” His possessive claim was followed by a determined lick.
“Oh.” Her soft moan seemed too loud. She had to be quiet lest someone come knocking. Was it bad to find that thought arousing?
Biting her lip, she fought to not to cry out again, but he didn’t make it easy, not when his tongue did such decadent things to her.
He spread her sex and explored with his tongue, lapping at her juices. She probably hurt him, so tightly did she grip his hair, but she couldn’t help it. She needed to hold something.
Deeper he pushed his tongue, thrusting it into her channel. Wild and wicked. But not as wild as when he shoved two fingers into her and then gripped her clit with his mouth.
That wrenched a cry from her before she could stop it.
He teased her nub, each flick of his tongue and pull of his lips spiraling her pleasure higher and higher.
“Fabian. Please.” She couldn’t help but beg.
And he listened.
He turned her around with a gruffly whispered, “Hands on the wall.”
She did as told and closed her eyes as she heard his zipper lower. The light fabric covering her buttocks lifted, and a moment later the thick head pushed at her sex.
“Tilt your ass toward me,” he ordered, and she obeyed, so hot for him she would have done anything. Anything to have him sink into her.
Again he rubbed against her moist slit. She could have sobbed with need.
Then the waiting was over. He thrust, sheathing himself into her, stretching the walls of her channel.
She couldn’t stop a gasp as her fingers clawed at the wall, searching for purchase but finding none. She rested her forehead against the wall and made soft grunting sounds as he penetrated her, over and over, the thickness of his shaft filling her so perfectly. The length of him just right, just long enough to butt against her sweet G-spot.
She couldn’t help how tightly her channel squeezed, making it harder and harder for him to shove in and pull out. But he didn’t seem to mind. His cock thickened. Throbbed.
Over and over he slammed into her, taking her to the brink of ecstasy. With a growled, “Mine,” he exploded, the final deep thrust and burst of liquid heat enough to send her over the edge.
She might have screamed his name. She didn’t really know or care, not with the waves of pleasure shuddering through her body.
For a moment they stood, panting, the aftershocks of their lovemaking making their bodies pulse.
She squeaked when a knock came at the door.
“Um, is everything all right in there?” asked a tentative voice.
All right? She couldn’t help but giggle. “Everything is great.”
And it was. Even if she wanted to kill Fabian when he dumped all the items she’d brought into the change room on the counter and said, “We’ll take it all. Plus add in a few dozen pairs of panties, too, would you? I seem to have a habit of tearing them.”
It wasn’t just the saleslady who blushed. Heat suffused her cheeks, too, but in her case, it wasn’t embarrassment but recollection that did her in.
But as it turned out, it was a sound choice. He did play havoc with her undergarments, to her screaming delight.