“I’ve got to get you to a bed,” he said, and he started walking. “Or I’m going to take you right here on the floor.”
I shivered, probably more excited by that prospect than I should have been. I pressed a kiss to one corner of his lips and then against his jaw as he walked us back to my bedroom. My fingers slipped over the soft brush of his hair and then to the taut muscles of his upper back. There was so much power in him.
Stopping long enough to flip the bedroom light on, he sat me down so that I was on my knees on the bed. Heat flowed into every cell as he stepped back, tugging his shirt out of the tactical pants. I was almost panting as he lifted his shirt over his head, and dropped it onto the floor.
God, he was beautiful, every square inch of him, from the way his muscles tightened along his stomach to the way his biceps flexed as he undid the belt.
So I told him as I settled on my haunches. “You’re beautiful.”
A half grin appeared. “Beautiful?”
“Yes. You’re beautiful.”
Leaving his belt, he clasped my cheeks and tilted my head back. When he kissed me this time, it was soft and sweet, like a benediction of sorts. It worked me up just as quickly and fiercely as his harder kisses did.
Reece straightened once more and proceeded with his personal strip show, which I wished I had hundred-dollar bills for. I’d be waving those suckers like a crazy person.
Grinning, he undid the button and then the zipper. He paused long enough to toe off his boots and his socks, then off went his pants and boxers.
He was . . . wow, I couldn’t even think as I drank him in.
“Up.” He wiggled his fingers.
I rose up onto my knees. His eyes met mine as he reached for the shirt and then tugged it off. The only thing left on me was a pair of boy-short undies. If I had been smart, I would’ve definitely grabbed something sexier. Like the lacy black thong I had. But oh no, I was wearing pinstriped boy shorts. Didn’t seem to matter I quickly realized.
His hot gaze tracked over me. “Now this . . . this is beautiful, Roxy.” He reached between us, smoothing his thumb over the puckered tip of my breast. “Not me. You. All you.”
My back arched, and I reached for him, where he was swollen and hard, but he caught my wrists, shaking his head. “I want to touch every part of you with my hands and my mouth.” He dropped my wrists and ran his fingers across my breasts, lingering on the aching tips. “Especially these. And I want to taste you.”
Pulse pounding, I wet my lips as he gently pushed me backward, guiding me onto my back. “I especially want to taste you here.” Reece lowered his hands, dragging them down my stomach. Between my thighs, he cupped me with one hand, and my back came straight off the bed. “Yes. This. I really want to taste this.” He knew what he was doing when he rubbed through the thin cotton. “But I can’t wait.”
“Don’t wait.” I lifted my hips.
His eyes flared with heat and then he pulled my undies off. And here we were, both of us in the buff. We’d been to this point before, but we didn’t make it far. My stomach dipped. I needed to tell him about that night, but how could I do that right now, after what he’d dealt with tonight? After he said he needed me right now?
Wrong or right, there was no way I wasn’t going to be here for him.
Reece placed a knee on the bed and came over me in a way that reminded me of a great panther stalking its prey. His arms flexed as he lowered his mouth to mine. I reached up to touch his face but halted.
“Touch me,” he ordered softly. “I like it when you touch me.”
“My fingers are covered with paint,” I said between kisses. “I’m sorry.”
He caught my hand, threading his fingers through mine as he captured my mouth in another deep, scorching kiss. “Don’t apologize. It’s you. It’s sexy as hell.”
I had no idea how my heart kept beating as he then brought the hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss against the center of my palm. God, he had me in that moment, he truly had me.
Lifting his mouth to mine once again, his tongue delved against mine. Red-hot pleasure whipped through me as he slipped his hands under my arms and lifted me up, placing me so I lay down the center of the bed. Never once breaking contact between our mouths. The strength in him was mind blowing, actually electrifying.
His body settled over mine, and I could feel the hard length of him pressing against my hip. His kisses running deeper, more urgent, and as he lifted his head, he nipped at my lip. His voice was thick with need when he spoke. “Do you have a condom?”
“Yes.” I nodded as I ran my hands over his shoulders and upper arms. His skin was fantastic, smooth like satin stretched over steel. I imagined that was how the bronze statue of Andrew Jackson felt. Absolutely flawless. “There should be some in the top drawer of the nightstand.” The moment that came out of my mouth, I worried what he’d think since it was obvious that I had a stash of condoms. “I can get—”
“No. I’ll get it.” He kissed the tip of my nose and then my forehead, the sweetness of the act almost overshadowing the relief easing the tension in my neck. He didn’t care at all. Didn’t stop to even wonder why. The man was perfect.
Really perfect.
Because as he planted a hand into the bed next to my head and lifted up, his muscles did all kinds of amazing things. He stretched over me and to the side, and I was fascinated with how the muscles along his sides moved. I barely heard the drawer open over the pounding of my heart. Never before had I been so aroused.