Damage Control

“Do you ever question doing what is good and right?”

“There have been times when I felt like my hand was forced.”

“When you were a lawyer?”

“No,” I say. “I manipulated the law, as does every attorney, but I never broke it. I’m talking about when I’m with my family.”

“Did you go where they lead?”

“Not so far.”

“That sounds like you might.”

“I don’t want to be them.”

“You aren’t them. You don’t have to be them.”

“I know that,” I say. “But you just keep telling me so I don’t forget.” Her legs hit the bed frame and she grips my arms.

I lean into a kiss and she pulls back, her hand pressing on my chest. “Wait. Now it’s my turn to say talk to me. Are you okay?”

“Death happened. The one thing I can’t control. It’s not the night to push me to stop protecting you. Not tonight. Can you do that?”

“Yes. We can.”

“We,” I repeat, “and that word sounds as good on my tongue as I know you’re going to taste. I’m going to make love to you properly. The way I plan to many times in our future.” I reach down and untie her robe, letting it fall open; my fingers slide underneath just far enough to tease her nipples. They pucker beneath my touch, and her lashes flutter, settling on her cheeks. “But when it’s over, I’m going to fuck you hard and fast again.”

I tug gently on her nipples and she bites her lips. “Look at me,” I order gently.

She opens her eyes, and there is desire in their depths, but there are shadows there too. I do not think she intends for me to see doubt or uncertainty that wasn’t there before. That I do not like or wish to know ever again. I want it gone. Now. Tomorrow. Forever. I reach up and rip the silk tie from her robe, wrapping it around my hand, before I reach up and caress the robe off her shoulder, letting it tumble to the ground.

“Give me your hands,” I order, but it’s really a question: Does she still trust me?

She studies me for several beats, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly, and I do not know what she sees in mine, but she offers me her hands. I wrap the silk around her wrists then lean in close to her, my cheek against her cheek, my body touching her nowhere else. “Now you’re at my mercy.”

“Yes,” she agrees. “I am.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“Warm.”

My lips curve with the answer that is every bit the combination of sweet, sexy honesty I’ve come to expect from her. “I’m going to make you warmer.”

“Promise?”

I go still with that question, which on the surface is innocent, but I wonder if it truly is or if it’s about those shadows in her eyes. “I promise,” I say. “And you know, I never—”

“Make a promise you don’t keep.”

“Exactly,” I say, and her reference to my previous words tells me that I am not the only one on a mission of trust, and I intend to deserve hers.

I bring my hands to just above her shoulders, letting them lightly touch her before beginning a slow caress downward. She makes a soft little sound that has my cock thickening and my blood running hot, but I won’t rush this. My lips follow, tracing a line down one of her arms, then the other. I lean and caress my lips over hers, a feather light touch that teases me, if not her.

I take her hands in mine, pressing them behind her head. “Hold them there, for me, so I can see all of you. Understand?”

“You intend to tease me incessantly,” she says, without so much as a hint of hesitation. “Yes. I understand.”

I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her naked body against me, my free hand on hers above her head, our mouths a breath apart. “I intend to lick every part of you, and then do it again, so yes. If that’s the definition of incessant teasing, then yes. I am going to tease you incessantly.” I close my mouth down on hers, my tongue licking into her mouth, a deep, hungry tasting I force myself to end far too quickly. “That was the beginning. Should I could continue?”

“Yes. Please.”

“Please,” I say. “I like that.”

“I think I might want to reverse this and make you say ‘please.’”

“Sweetheart, there are many reasons I’ll say ‘please’ to you.” I drag my lips over her cheek, her jaw, back to her neck, and ear. “Please, can I touch your nipple? Please, can I lick it? Please tell me where you want me to lick you.” I turn her to face the bed, my hands on her hips, leaning in close again, my hand on her belly, my cheek pressed to hers. “Where do you want me to lick you?”

“I’m not really picky.”

I smile against her neck—no one would have convinced me I’d smile anytime this night, or anytime soon—the sweet feminine scent of her teasing my nostrils. “I love how you smell.” It’s all over the sheets. I want it all over me. My teeth scrape her neck. My hands slides to her breasts, cupping them. “Do you know what I’m going to do to you?”

“Fuck me?”

I go still with that answer and the realization that my quest for control has done exactly the opposite of what I’d intended. I’ve made this about me, not her. Not us. I turn her back around, pulling her arms between us. “No. I am not fucking you. In that bathroom I fucked you. Right now, I’m making love to you.” I untie her arms and cup her face. “But I still want to kiss every part of you before this night is over.” I kiss her now, a slow slide of tongue, and I don’t rush it. I revel in the taste of her. In the soft little moan she makes. In the way her hands settle at my waist and press a little harder against me with every slide of my tongue, until finally I say, “Kissing you all over isn’t about teasing you incessantly. It’s about enjoying you and making that moment when I’m finally inside you feel better.”