Page 55 of Into These Eyes

Gavin

A part from her initial jolt when I caged her in, Jamie’s completely frozen. When the coffee machine falls silent, I can almost hear the thunderous beating of our hearts.

Although she shouldn’t be embarrassed about last night, I knew she would be, knew she’d try to avoid me by leaving for work early, so I made sure that didn’t happen. But the moment she skirted around me to get to the cutlery drawer, I knew she was withholding her usual touch.

Well, fuck that.

I live for her touch, no matter how brief or impersonal.

Circling her wrists, I force her to release the death grip she has on the edge of the counter and place her palms flat against the cool stone. Then I hold her there, my hands on top of hers, our bare arms brushing with every inhale and exhale, sending sparks of desire crashing through my body.

She probably thinks this is about what I burst in on last night.

Okay, so that had left me with all sorts of wicked images of her pleasuring herself, and all the dirty things I’d like to do to her with that pink toy.

Not to mention how she almost undid me with those husky little groans and words of praise when I’d massaged her.

But those aren’t the things on my mind right now.

That kiss.

It might not have had anything to do with romance or passion, but it communicated something much deeper. A silent contract that said I want you in my personal space. I want your touch.

She crossed a line last night. A line, I suppose, that’s been blurred since we first held each other in the caravan.

Now that I truly know who she is, now that I’ve accepted how deeply I’ve fallen for her, I’m almost certain she feels the same way. But I’m done with wondering. I want confirmation before she leaves this house.

Holding onto every ounce of self-control, I murmur, “You kissed me last night.”

“Yes.” She exhales without hesitation. Owning it. Surprising me. Spurring me on as her intoxicating scent curls into every breath I take. She smells like a cozy afternoon nap and everything that’s uniquely her.

“Don’t think. Just the truth,” I rasp, barely touching my lips to the shell of her ear. “Tell me why.”

Again, she doesn’t hesitate. “Because it felt right. Natural. There were no words. Only … instinct.”

I slide my fingers between hers and curl them under until the tips are touching her palms.

“I also have instincts that feel right … natural … that are wordless,” I whisper, nuzzling that delicate spot behind her earlobe, my heart slamming against her back. “Should I act on those instincts?”

She trembles, and I don’t know if it’s with anticipation or fear. Releasing her hands, I ever so slowly run my palms up her arms as my fingertips graze the soft, sensitive flesh of their undersides.

Drawing in a sharp breath, she presses into my chest, seeking more contact.

“Yes,” she whispers. “Yes, you should.”

I spin her around. Our eyes collide with feral need.

Before either of us can take a breath, I grasp the back of her head and crash my mouth against hers.

Holding nothing back, I unleash all my pent-up hunger on her.

It’s unshackled and unpractised, exploding with such starving intensity, it scares even me.

Yet she clings to my shoulders, her fingers digging in hard and pulling me closer, not pushing me away like she probably should. There’s nothing romantic about this kiss. It’s raw, animalistic, driven by my need to devour and possess her. And I haven’t even started on her body yet.

As my lips grind against hers too hard, as my tongue ravages and our teeth clash, I wrap my arm around her waist and lift her onto the cool stone countertop.

Just as her knees part for me, she gasps and jerks away, the back of her hand flying to her mouth.

Breath blasting from my lungs, I freeze, wondering how I’ve fucked this up.

Then her hand comes away from her lips and I see the small red smear left behind.

Oh shit. I’ve hurt her.

Dread slams my heart to a stop. Releasing her, I step away and grip the back of my neck.

“Jamie … I’m so sorry,” I manage to croak.

“It’s fine,” she says through rapid breaths. After pressing the back of her hand to her swollen, ravished lips, she pulls it away and inspects it again. “It’s already stopped bleeding.”

As my heart starts up again, I drag a hand down my face and turn away, too ashamed to let her look at me.

“Do not shut me out,” she demands, throwing my words back at me.

Reluctantly, I turn and face her. She’s still on the counter, knees slightly parted, fingers gripping the edge of the stone on either side of her thighs.

Her harsh breaths rock her body back and forth a little.

Everything about her posture tells me she hasn’t closed herself off.

But those beautiful eyes stare at me with a million questions.

“I’m a fucking beast,” I tell her. “This is what sixteen years deprived of touch has done to me. J, I’m sorry.” I swipe a hand through my hair and break eye contact. “I meant to … do that differently.”

“Gavin …” When I meet her stare, she holds a hand out to me. “I think you should kiss it better.”

I stand motionless, completely bowled over by this woman’s kindness and understanding. Taking hesitant steps, I grasp her hand. Her grip tightens with reassurance as she draws me in until I’m standing between her parted thighs.

“Let me see,” I demand softly.

She pouts out her bottom lip and I can’t help but smile, letting go of the dread curled inside me. Thank fuck I haven’t ruined everything.

Gently, I cup her face in my hands and ease her bottom lip down with my thumb. There, just inside, I see the tiny cut. And she’s right, it’s no longer bleeding.

Relief, mixed with a coiling, primal need sweeps through me as I press my forehead to hers. “I screwed that up. I wanted to—”

She places a finger over my lips. “Don’t tell me. Just show me.”

When her hand drops away, I lean back a little, watching her eyes search mine before they drop to my mouth.

My heart races with anticipation. And fear.

Terrified I’ll fuck this up again. But I won’t let that stop me.

I move in and feather my lips over hers.

“I’ve wanted this for so fucking long, J. ”

And then I capture her bottom lip between mine, gently drawing it in with a soft, tender suction.

Christ, it’s plump and delicate, and so warm.

Apart from her kiss last night, it’s been so damn long since I’ve done this.

It’s vaguely familiar, yet completely new.

As she kisses me back, I drink in the divine sensations we’ve both been deprived of for almost half our lives.

Sinking a hand in her hair, I angle her head and deepen the kiss, our lips sliding, our mouths barely open.

When I brush my fingers delicately down the side of her exposed neck, goosebumps break out beneath my fingertips like braille.

And God, do I want to read her with my hands, my mouth, my tongue.

As I slide her thin robe from her shoulders, her exploring hands travel up my t-shirt-covered torso and over my pecs, flaring the fire already raging.

I find the strap of her camisole and gently drag it off one shoulder. Skating my fingertips back toward her neck, she shudders beneath my touch.

This is everything I’ve wished for, and nowhere near enough.

Her fingers thread through my hair, and when she makes a tiny mewl of pleasure at the back of her throat, I know she wants more too.

Heart on the verge of exploding, I break the kiss, trailing my lips over her cheek until I reach her ear.

“Christ, J. I love the way you smell first thing in the morning,” I murmur as I nuzzle that sensitive spot below her earlobe.

“And when you get home …” I place a feather-light kiss to her neck.

“And when you’re sitting beside me … And before you go to bed.

” Touching my tongue to her goosebumps, I kiss a delicate trail all the way to the edge of her shoulder.

“Gavin,” she breathes, her fingers curling around the strands of my hair. “Oh, God, that feels amazing.”

I lift my head and cradle her jaw in my palm. As I try to catch my breath, I remind myself that this is real, this is happening. And she’s just as turned on as I am.

“These lips,” I murmur, brushing my thumb across their sensitive plumpness. “I want to kiss them every second I’m with you … every moment I’m not with you.”

Her fingernails scrape through my beard. “I feel that too. I can’t stop thinking about you … wanting you.”

“Thank fuck.” Desperate to taste her again, I kiss her, running my tongue over the seam of her mouth. She releases that little sound of pleasure again and opens for me.

Sweeping my tongue inside, she meets me halfway and I let go of my own rumble of exultation. She tastes like everything I’ve been craving my entire life.

Fuck, I’m hard. I need to be closer to her. I want to grab her everywhere at once, but more than that, I want to savour every first touch we share.

As our kisses fill the air with delicious sounds that set my blood on fire, her knees cradle my hips and squeeze. At first, I think she’s stopping my progress, until she wraps her legs around my waist, scoots forward on the countertop, and pulls me right up against her.

The moment we connect between her thighs, we groan into each other’s mouths. Fuck, she’s so hot against my dick, I feel it right through my trackpants. Pressing my hand to her lower back, I draw her even closer, positioning myself right where she needs me. Then I rock my hips into her.

Whimpering, panting for breath, she lets her head fall back, exposing that slender neck, her fingers tugging on my hair, encouraging, demanding.

Desperate to mark her skin the way she branded mine, I drag my lips down her throat, but stop short, all too aware that she won’t appreciate going into the office like that.

Instead, I kiss and nip and lick, devouring every erotic noise I’ve never heard her make before.