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So much for sounding commanding.
“Then take them off.”
His words made her shiver.
Not from fear.No. She wasn’t afraid of Caleb. The dominance in his voice should have made her afraid. She’d grown to hate it before now.
But Caleb was different. His dominance came wrapped in protection rather than exploitation.
She slid from his lap.
His hips lifted.
Nerves made her fumble with his zipper, the sound of the teeth synchronizing with the hiss that tore from Caleb’s lips. He kept his hips raised while she wrestled his jeans down, past his black boxer-briefs, and over his knees.
Boots need to go.
She tugged them off, taking his socks with them, then pulled his jeans the rest of the way to the floor.
Then she stood back and simply…admired.
The grip Caleb had on the chair brought his pecs and biceps into sharp relief. He was a Renaissance sculpture, only warm, with beautiful sunset kissed skin and blazing dark eyes that could see clear through to her soul.
And he was hers.
For tonight, at least.
It might be the only night she got. She wouldn’t waste it.
Stepping between his splayed legs, she cupped one of his knees. Let her hand drift up his thigh, to the bulge filling out his sexy black briefs.
His hips arched on a groan that filled her with a heady sense of feminine power. “Let me touch you.”
“Not yet.” She stroked him.
He grew longer, thicker, harder beneath her touch, his hips jerking in small, uncontrolled movements. His head dropped back, exposingthe smooth column of his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed on a hard swallow.
She had the urge to bite him there. An ancient claiming. Mark him as hers so that he remembered her after she was gone.
“I’d rather cut off my hand than hurt you,” he growled. “I need you to understand.”
Her brows furrowed. “I do.”
“Then take your clothes off.” A guttural growl. A command that demanded she obey. “I need to show you how good it can be. For you. For both of us.”
She waited for her stomach to cramp. For anxiety to kick in and steal her desire.
Caleb’s dominant nature wanted to be in control. Vincente had always taken control.
It didn’t happen.
Instead, her breasts felt heavy, her skin sensitive.
She wanted his hands on her. Caleb’s dominance felt…different. Like he was taking her with him, using his dominance for her pleasure, not solely for his own.
She was a partner, not an object for him to slake his lust with.
Slowly, her hands lifted. She gripped the hem of her purple knit sweater.