She paused, trying to process all of the information, how it applied to her. “But a big part of it is also that you’re so into this stuff. You didn’t judge me. Not for one second.”
He nodded. “Which goes back to the psychology.” He paused, lowered his voice. “Why is it so important that you not be judged, Kara?”
She froze. She didn’t want to talk to him about this stuff. About the shame her relationship with Jake had left behind. The shame she’d felt so often growing up with her brilliant, overachieving parents.
Never good enough .
Except that here, with him, she felt good enough. For the first time.
It was too much to take in. And this was casual sex. She had to stop thinking about it in such serious terms. He’d called it “play.” That was all it was.
“Okay,” he said after a minute. “You don’t have to tell me. I have a tendency to make demands. But I can dial it back.”
He grinned at her, and she had the sense he was doing it to make her more comfortable.
“You’re a nice man, Dante.”
It was true. He was a good man. One of the best she’d ever met. She’d known it in high school. He’d only seemed to have grown more into it.
“Except when I’m being mean,” he teased.
“Not mean, really. Just . . . wicked.”
“But you like that.”
He reached out and brushed his fingers over her wrist, picked it up and laid a soft kiss there. Bit into her flesh, just enough that she could feel the sharp edge of his teeth.
“I do,” she said, trying to keep the sudden tremor of lust out of her voice, and not succeeding.
She was burning up inside again already, her sex needy once more. And she could see the desire stark on his face.
“Have you had enough to eat, Kara?”
“For now.”
His tone dropped an octave. “Then why don’t I put you in the shower?”
He didn’t wait for her to answer. He took her hand, slipped his other arm around her waist and led her to the bathroom, one of the few walled rooms, which took up much of the back wall of the loft apartment.
He stripped the pajama top off her and she stood naked, her nipples hardening with the cool air and excitement as he reached into the enormous shower stall and turned on the water. He stripped his pajama pants off, opened a drawer in the modern maple vanity and pulled out a string of condom packets.
“Oh, I hope you intend to use those,” she told him, her sex going damp.
He grinned, all strong white teeth and flashing dimples and desire soft around his lush mouth. She glanced down, found him hard, ready. She shivered.
“I intend to do a lot of things to you in there,” he said, pulling her close.
He bent to kiss her, his mouth tasting of hot coffee and maple syrup. Sweet and strong, just like him. And God, the man could kiss. His lips were soft, yet demanding. His tongue slipping in and taking over her mouth. Making her shudder with desire, small ripples running over her body. His chest was a hard plane of muscle against her breasts. His abs were just as solid. And his cock was a rigid shaft pressing against her stomach.
He pulled his mouth from hers long enough to get them into the shower. And then it was all wet heat as water fell, seemingly from everywhere at once. All she knew was that they were soaking wet, their bodies plastered together. Slippery skin and the scent of citrus and something darker . . . the musk he smelled of, she realized. His soap. Even the scent of it was making her body heat, her sex throb with need.
He pulled back then, holding her at arm’s length.
“Christ, you’re beautiful like this, Kara,” he told her. “I love this. To see your wet skin. The water all over you. It’s another fetish of mine, the shower. The water itself.” He ran a finger between her breasts, down the center of her stomach. “Wet skin. I should have put you in here in one of my white dress shirts. I really love that. To watch the fabric go opaque . . .” He touched the tip of one of her nipples
He nodded. “Which goes back to the psychology.” He paused, lowered his voice. “Why is it so important that you not be judged, Kara?”
She froze. She didn’t want to talk to him about this stuff. About the shame her relationship with Jake had left behind. The shame she’d felt so often growing up with her brilliant, overachieving parents.
Never good enough .
Except that here, with him, she felt good enough. For the first time.
It was too much to take in. And this was casual sex. She had to stop thinking about it in such serious terms. He’d called it “play.” That was all it was.
“Okay,” he said after a minute. “You don’t have to tell me. I have a tendency to make demands. But I can dial it back.”
He grinned at her, and she had the sense he was doing it to make her more comfortable.
“You’re a nice man, Dante.”
It was true. He was a good man. One of the best she’d ever met. She’d known it in high school. He’d only seemed to have grown more into it.
“Except when I’m being mean,” he teased.
“Not mean, really. Just . . . wicked.”
“But you like that.”
He reached out and brushed his fingers over her wrist, picked it up and laid a soft kiss there. Bit into her flesh, just enough that she could feel the sharp edge of his teeth.
“I do,” she said, trying to keep the sudden tremor of lust out of her voice, and not succeeding.
She was burning up inside again already, her sex needy once more. And she could see the desire stark on his face.
“Have you had enough to eat, Kara?”
“For now.”
His tone dropped an octave. “Then why don’t I put you in the shower?”
He didn’t wait for her to answer. He took her hand, slipped his other arm around her waist and led her to the bathroom, one of the few walled rooms, which took up much of the back wall of the loft apartment.
He stripped the pajama top off her and she stood naked, her nipples hardening with the cool air and excitement as he reached into the enormous shower stall and turned on the water. He stripped his pajama pants off, opened a drawer in the modern maple vanity and pulled out a string of condom packets.
“Oh, I hope you intend to use those,” she told him, her sex going damp.
He grinned, all strong white teeth and flashing dimples and desire soft around his lush mouth. She glanced down, found him hard, ready. She shivered.
“I intend to do a lot of things to you in there,” he said, pulling her close.
He bent to kiss her, his mouth tasting of hot coffee and maple syrup. Sweet and strong, just like him. And God, the man could kiss. His lips were soft, yet demanding. His tongue slipping in and taking over her mouth. Making her shudder with desire, small ripples running over her body. His chest was a hard plane of muscle against her breasts. His abs were just as solid. And his cock was a rigid shaft pressing against her stomach.
He pulled his mouth from hers long enough to get them into the shower. And then it was all wet heat as water fell, seemingly from everywhere at once. All she knew was that they were soaking wet, their bodies plastered together. Slippery skin and the scent of citrus and something darker . . . the musk he smelled of, she realized. His soap. Even the scent of it was making her body heat, her sex throb with need.
He pulled back then, holding her at arm’s length.
“Christ, you’re beautiful like this, Kara,” he told her. “I love this. To see your wet skin. The water all over you. It’s another fetish of mine, the shower. The water itself.” He ran a finger between her breasts, down the center of her stomach. “Wet skin. I should have put you in here in one of my white dress shirts. I really love that. To watch the fabric go opaque . . .” He touched the tip of one of her nipples
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