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Authors: Roberta Pearce

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BOOK: The Value of Vulnerability
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“Please,” she murmured huskily.

Releasing and discarding the garter belt, fingers of both hands hooked into the band of the delicate panties and he peeled them slowly from her. Kneeling, his breath wafted against the soft light-brown curls. Parting her gently, his mouth claimed her.

Her
back arched and she uttered a hoarse cry of pure pleasure. Reaching down, she plunged into his hair, gripping tightly. At his muffled grunt, she relaxed her hold, but a hand placed and flexed over hers told her that the sound was not one of objection. Gripping again, she heard the pleasure in the groan that vibrated against her, and she surrendered utterly to the moment.

Force built behind the laving of his tongue and the lick of fire in her loins. She tensed. She relaxed. She tensed again, her entire body clenching as his mouth wreaked havoc and his fingers penetrated her, turning up to apply pressure from inside. Mewing sounds left her throat
. She held her breath. She released it. She broke apart, perspiration salting her as his name left her lips in an orgasmic cry.

He
nibbled a path up her torso, stopping to nuzzle a breast, mouth and tongue wickedly promising more, invasive fingers between her thighs building her back up.

She panted, hand over dazed eyes, whispering again
as her hips arched, “Ford.”

“Rheum, rheum,”
he chuckled against her.

Another orgasm, spiced with laughter for this
unexpectedly playful side of him, shuddered through her, far less intense but no less pleasurable, and she laughed again with joy as it subsided. Chuckling with her, he continued kissing his route to her mouth.

Her eyes opened as he touched a hand to her cheek, all laughter fading as he hovered directly over her, watching her recovery with blatant pleasure.
Oh, how she
liked
that expression. He seemed so . . . so
normal
. Well, in an extraordinary way.

“Erin,” he groaned, and kissed her with rough intensity. Her tongue twined with his, tasting the heady mixture of his mouth and her body.

Yes. She liked this Ford. Very much.

A hand slid under her
. The bra gave way, and she straightened her arms to make its removal easier for him, hearing the soft material hit the floor as he cast it aside. Kneeling over her, he shed his shirt, and bent to give tender homage to her breasts.

Muscles flexed and trembled in his back as she investigated the planes of it.
She wanted more. More, more, more.

Now. Now. Now.

One hand went to his belt, and he rolled to his side, taking her with him, allowing her access.

Buckle, button, zip . . . she skinned his remaining clothing back
, and he shifted in assistance, toeing off his socks and kicking aside the trousers and knit boxers. She reached for him with both hands, marvelling at the size and velvet feel of him, and he groaned roughly. Pushing him back, her mouth went seeking him, skidding across the ridges of his abs.

A hand curling in her hair, he
drew a ragged breath and stopped her before her mouth reached its target. “As much as that’s fantastic, I won’t last thirty seconds with that kind of attention right now.” He reached for the bedside table drawer, fumbling for a condom.

Straddling him,
the fine hairs of his thighs tickling the smooth inner skin of hers, she took the foil pack, seeing that he was as overcome as she. It excited her to see him like this, to know that she had this effect on him.

“Damn it!” she muttered as she fought momentarily with the package, much out of practice—he chuckled at her efforts—but finally she sheathed him with bold caresses, effectively changing that laughter into a fierce groan as he flipped her onto her back.

Her hips lifted automatically as he moved over her. “Easy,” he murmured, as he had before when she had tried to rush. He kissed her senseless, which she did not regard as ‘easy,’ but she accepted it gratefully. He needed time to regain some control, and she knew she’d benefit from it. She felt him nudging against her and she tightened in anticipation before relaxing in acceptance.

The invasion of her body came with their eyes locked. Her features crumpled in gratification
, while his tensed in equal approval. He kissed her and she moaned against his mouth as he moved slowly inside her, sparks setting the very blood in her veins afire. He filled her, stretched her. She could not take anymore. But as he pulled back and sank in again, she found she could, and demanded everything he had to give her as he settled into a steady, intoxicatingly slow rhythm.

His mouth was on her breast, a thin trickle of his sweat trailing over her curves as he nibbled and licked her. Her legs wound around him, tightening as thrusts quickened. Heart rates matched tempo in high gear, and as he lifted himself over her, she knew he was not far away.
There was no time for her to catch up, but she didn’t care.

H
e knew. Shifting his gaze and one hand between them to where their bodies joined, he rubbed his thumb against her clitoris, bringing her back to fever pitch with a few skilled caresses and heated murmurs of encouragement. Gasping, arching through the final hard pounding of his body, her orgasm running just ahead of his.

Lungs gasped for air. Sweat dripped and ran. Shuddering tremors wracked. Time stood still as he remained over her, powerful arms trembling. Her hand trembled too, as she lifted it to cup his face, and he turned his head to kiss
her palm. Lowering his body onto hers, he buried his face in the curve of her neck.

S
he stroked the relaxing muscles of his shoulders, soothing him with tender kisses.

At last
he rolled away from her, a profound sigh of satisfaction leaving him. Neither spoke, enjoying the quiet.

Gradually, a chill spread through her as she missed the warmth of his body, exaggerated by the mental distance he put between them. Did he expect her to leave now
that it was over?

Ah, hells. She wasn’t cut out for this sex-only fling.

Great time to figure that out.

And then, everything was perfect as he drew her against him. Still
no words, but Ford had made his wish clear. He meant her to stay.

***

“What time is it?” she asked.

He laughed softly. “For someone so obsessed with the time, you really should wear a watch. It’s almost one.”

They had made love again, and now lay quietly, a sheet cast over their lower bodies. Her head rested on his sternum while her hand slowly caressed his abdomen. Her hair spread over his chest and shoulder, his fingers combing through the strands with idle attention.

“Are you hungry now?” he asked.

Her mouth opened on his skin and he made a pleased sound. “A little.”

Neither of them moved immediately, reluctant to break apart even for sustenance.
I would happily starve to death
, she thought,
rather than move right now
.

But such thoughts wove a treacherous path to her heart, and she was doing a poor job of protecting it. It was only sex, after all, and emotional economy was imperative. Distance should not be an issue so soon in their acquaintance, and she silently berated herself for allowing
romance to hover on the edge of her thoughts.

But sex for her had always been romantic
—at least, within a romantic context, being with someone she was invested in emotionally.

Stirring, she turned her head to look at him, seeing his features relaxed but his eyes unnervingly alert as they rested on her, reminding her again of a cat. “How did you get the name Ford?” she asked.

“It is typical that parents give their offspring a name.”

“Wasn’t aware of that.” She nipped his chest. “I mean
, is it a family name?”

“Yes. A great-great-something-or-other was
allegedly some relation to Henry. The name is put out there every so often in the family. I’m the only one who uses it as my forename.”

“Do you have a middle name?”

He winced. “Two.”

When he didn’t elaborate: “And they are?”

“Does it matter?”


Is it top secret?”

“No.” The slight curving of a smile had a subtle self-deprecating quality to it. Clearly, keeping personal details private was a habit
, even from naked girls in his bed. Or maybe
especially.
“Mathias Braxton. My maternal grandfather’s name and mother’s maiden name.”

She grinned. “Ford
Mathias Braxton Howard of Braxton Howard Group. It rolls off the tongue.”

Sitting up, he pulled her up with him, his hands gripping her shoulders. “Let me see.”

“Ford Mathias Braxton Howard.” And she lolled her tongue, touching its tip to her chin.

“So it does.” He licked its length and delved into the dark recess of her mouth.

“Umph.” She leaned back under his kiss and he followed her down. Limbs and bedclothes tangled as they kissed, their bodies responding as if it had been weeks rather than an hour since they had last had sex.

He broke away with a hoarse laugh. “Enough. Let’s get something to eat.”

“All right,” she grumbled, sliding out from under him. Their clothes still lay in a jumble on the floor, and she fished out his shirt. “May I?”

“By all means.” He propped himself up on an elbow to watch as she donned it.

Fastening buttons proved far more difficult than one would imagine, given her trembling fingers and his hot gaze. “I’m not going to run into any staff, will I?” she asked uncertainly.

“No. Do you know what that outfit needs?” he asked, his eyes travelling her length.

“What?”

“Shoes.”

She shoved her bare feet into her pumps. “Like so?” she posed.

“Like so.”

“Do you want me to fetch something for you?”

“No, I’m right behind you.”

“Tease,” she purred, and headed for the door on slightly wobbly, sex-sated legs.

*

He lay back against the pillows—body relaxed and lazy, mind chugging away hard.

First assessment: Erin would make a fine mistress.
Physically, she had given herself to him with complete abandon. She hadn’t talked incessantly after sex. Only a little, that second time. Additionally, he still felt
her
in the quiet, her warmth and loving personality a tangible presence even without her voice.

Yes, Erin would make a fine mistress.

When to tell her . . . ? It would be best when her emotions were fully engaged.

These are early days,
he reminded, and roused himself with an effort. A few items needed sorting, but the series of small tests he had planned for her would confirm—or refute—her trustworthiness.

Regardless, none of that was a concern for tonight.

Pulling on his trousers, he automatically checked his pockets, tossing the condom there on the bedside table.

He thought about how she looked in his shirt and the stilettos.

Retrieving the condom, he shoved in his pocket again, the errantly boyish smile unwittingly making an appearance as he followed her downstairs to the kitchen.

*

She turned to face him from the open fridge door, in the midst of biting into a fat cocktail shrimp. Grinning, she offered him one from her hand, which he took between his teeth, biting it off at the tail.

“Good, eh?” she murmured, tossing the tails in the sink and turning back to the fridge.

“Mm. Find everything all right?” He leaned against her, reviewing the contents over her shoulder.

Turning her head, she smiled almost shyly into his eyes as his hands gripped her hips. “Do you want to skip dinner again?” she asked.

“I think I need something for energy.”

Feeling the pulse of his arousal against her bottom, she grinned. “That is not apparent.”

“Come here.” He turned her, finding her mouth with his, eager and ready for him. His shirt, too wide for her but only a little long, rode up as she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close. His hands sought her warm flesh beneath the shirt, and they both knew they were not far from sinking to the floor.

He
jerked back with a husky laugh. “Food first. Here.” He lifted her with ease and set her on the butcher-block island. “My home, my fridge, my duty to feed you. Stay put.”

“Yes, Ford,” she said with mock meekness.

In no time, he had a cold feast assembled next to her on the island. He did not seem interested in carrying on a conversation, but she wanted to know more about him—and was a little put out that he lacked similar inclinations regarding her.

Well, she would just talk about herself, then, and see how it played out! After all, just because this was supposed to be all about sex didn’t mean it couldn’t eventually be more, and the only way that could happen was to learn about each other.

BOOK: The Value of Vulnerability
4.32Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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