look she gave him was guaranteed to make a man’s blood boil. Then she slid her hand down between them and squeezed the hard ridge straining his fly. He let out his breath in a rush. “I know all I need to know about you,” she said.
Any other time he might have gone for this direct approach but he didn’t intend to let her get the upper hand so quickly. He pulled her hand back up to chest level. “Hey, slow down. Don’t be so nervous.”
“I’m not nervous.”
But the flush that bloomed on her cheeks told him otherwise. He smoothed his hand down her hair. “Sure you’re nervous. Everybody’s nervous the first time.”
“You don’t look nervous.”
“I am, darlin’. I am.” He reached around to knead the back of her neck. Her muscles were as tight as guitar strings. “Close your eyes.”
She looked wary. “Why?”
“Just close them. When I’m working with a nervous horse, I might blindfold them. It takes away all the distractions, forces them to pay attention just to me.”
“I’m not a horse.” But she closed her eyes.
“No, ma’am. But you are one fine filly, just the same.” He worked his way across her back with his good hand, massaging gently, moving to her shoulders, pausing to plant a kiss in the hollow of her collarbone.
Her eyes flew open. “What are you doing?”
“All right, darlin’. You asked for it.” He pulled the bandanna from around his neck.
She stared. “What’s that for?”
“I told you, when a horse is too nervous, I blindfold it.” He refolded the bandanna, then covered her eyes and awkwardly knotted it, hampered somewhat by the cast on his wrist. He slipped a finger under it to check the fit. “Not too snug, is it?”
She shook her head. “No. What are you going to do?”
He smiled, enjoying the keen edge of desire that knifed through him at the sight of her blindfolded this way. “Trust me, darlin’.”
THERESA FOUGHT PANIC, struggling to take deep breaths. Kyle wasn’t going to hurt her. And there was something exciting about not being able to see this way. Something incredibly arousing about relying on her other senses to figure out what was going on.
His hand was a little rough, callused but gentle as he stroked her arms. He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm, the brush of his tongue on her skin sending electric sensations along her nerves.
She took another deep breath, steadying herself, but all she smelled was him. Spicy cologne and masculine sweat—a scent that screamed sex and added fuel to the heat building in her.
He ran his hand across her stomach, pausing to play with the charm in her belly-button ring. “Cute,” he said.
“I don’t like to think of myself as cute,” she said.
“No, you’re too tough for that, aren’t you?”
She didn’t feel very tough now, as he slid his hand up farther to cup the underside of her breast. She gasped, arching toward him.
“Mmm, you do feel good.” He lowered the zipper on the front of the vest and pushed aside the two halves of the garment. Cool air rushed across her breasts and her nipples tightened.
He cradled first one breast, then the other, her fullness spilling over his fingers. He trailed his thumb in circles around each breast, each circle smaller than the last, drawing closer but never quite touching the sensitive nipples.
With a strangled cry of frustration, she arched toward him, swaying a little on her high heels.
“Take off your shoes.”
She kicked aside the heels.
“Now put your hands on my shoulders.”
She did so, wondering what he would do next. She liked foreplay as much as the next gal, but this slow, deliberate exploration was driving her crazy.
He turned his attention to her breasts again, shaping them with his hand, squeezing them. He bent and she felt the hot, wet caress of his tongue and couldn’t hold back a moan of pure pleasure as he took her nipple into his mouth.
She leaned into him, gripping his shoulders to keep from sinking to the floor. His mouth was devastatingly thorough, sucking and licking and teasing first one breast and then the other. Every tug of his mouth set up a corresponding tension in her womb. She was wet and swollen and had to clamp her mouth shut to keep from begging him to satisfy her.
He smoothed his hand up her thigh, all the way to her waist, where he grasped the elastic of her tights and pulled. “Let’s get you out of these, all right?”
She couldn’t shed the hose fast enough, supporting herself with one hand on his shoulder while he helped her divest herself of them. Her skirt followed shortly, and her panties, leaving her naked.
She cursed the blindfold that kept her from seeing his expression. He was silent for a couple of minutes, and she knew he was studying her. She hugged her arms across her chest and scowled at him. “What is it? Never saw a tattooed woman before?”
“Not one with such a lovely canvas to work on.” He pulled her arms away, coaxing them around him once more, then hugged her closer still, his cast braced at her back, his free hand reaching down between them to cover her crotch. “You are ready for me, aren’t you?” he whispered, his tongue in her ear as his fingers slid into her.
She thrust against him hard, unable to hold back. Her body wasn’t paying any attention to her mind anymore. She’d been reduced to this all-consuming need. A moment longer and she was sure her legs wouldn’t be able to support her anymore. She’d be melted from the inside out.
And then she was swept up into his arms and he was carrying her across the room. “Where’s the bedroom?” he asked.
“First door on the right.”
She braced herself for a rough landing on the bed, but he managed to lay her down gently, the cast scraping a little at her back. For a pretty average-size guy, he was strong. Everywhere she laid her hand, she met with hard muscle, the kind that didn’t come from spending days in the gym.
He moved away, and without his warmth she felt cold. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“I thought you might be tired of being the only one naked.”
Then he was beside her in the bed, his body covering hers. She reached out and felt one shoulder and the back of his head. She closed her eyes behind the blindfold and tried to take in everything her other senses were telling her: the salty taste of his skin when she ran her tongue along his jaw, the rough hairs on his calf as he knelt beside her, the iron heat of his erection nudging against her thigh. She reached down and felt him twitch in her hand. She smiled. She wasn’t the only one ready for him to be inside her.
“There are condoms in the drawer of the bedside table,” she said.
“Don’t
