He groaned. “You’re wearing a garter belt with thigh-high stockings.”
Yes, she was. Not simply because she liked the way they felt on her body, but because Noah had once let it drop that he found the look hot. It had been a passing comment while they’d been watching a movie, but she remembered everything when it came to him.
“These old things?” she said and, stepping out of the dress, bent down to pick it up. She was hotly conscious of Noah’s eyes on her ass as she walked into the wardrobe and hung the dress in the section where she put clothes that needed dry-cleaning.
A deep inhale while she was hidden from him, a slow exhale, her pulse a drumbeat.
Going back to the bed using the same unhurried stride, she put one foot on the mattress and unclipped the stocking from the garter belt. The stocking was baby fine and, to be honest, not really necessary in LA. But again, it was all about playing to Noah’s fantasies.
She rolled down the stocking with care, inch by inch. Tugging it off her foot, she dropped it to the floor and started on the second. No rushing, no visible self-consciousness, just a woman slowly, sensuously teasing her lover as she undressed for him.
Though Noah hadn’t moved from his position by the door, his thumbs hooked into the front pockets of his jeans, his breathing was audible. Her own heart thumped hard as stone against her ribs. It was so loud by the time she finished taking off the second stocking that she couldn’t hear Noah anymore. Dropping the ball of airy material to the carpet, she put both feet back on that carpet and went to undo the tiny hooks that fastened the lace of the garter belt around her hips.
It was erotic black, the same color as her panties and the demi-cup bra she wore on top. All a matched set.
Her hands trembled as she removed the lace and dropped it on the bed.
She’d just lifted her arms back to unhook her bra when Noah moved. She saw it out of the corner of her eye, stumbled when his weight hit her, but he had his hands tight on her hips, kept her upright.
“Noah,” she gasped, feeling the hard push of his cock against her lace-covered butt.
“Now, Kit,” he said harshly. “Now, while I only have you in my head.”
Kit didn’t argue. If Noah thought now was the time, now it would be. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t burning up for him. “Yes,” she said.
He turned her to the wall, pushed her forward. It was rough but controlled, Noah’s hands holding on to her until she’d braced her palms against the wall. Her chest heaved, her breasts swelling against the cups of her bra. She made a low, needy sound in her throat when he pulled down the scrap of her panties… and then they just tore, the ribbon ties on either side snapping like they were made of paper.
She felt his hands moving behind her, heard the sound of a belt buckle being opened, the metallic rasp of a zipper being lowered, braced herself for him. She was ready, her body melting, but at that moment, a dark, twisted fear invaded her heart. He was taking her from the back, the way he’d no doubt taken many of those other women. Was that all she’d become? Did he even remember who she was anymore?
A condom wrapper.
“I’ll keep you safe,” he ground out.
Her panicked heart interpreted that to mean he was keeping a barrier between them. Part of her knew that was stupid, that he was doing the right thing, but her panic grew and grew. She couldn’t bear it if they did this and—
His hands back on her hips. Spinning her around, strands of her hair sticking to her cheeks, he grabbed her face in his hands and kissed her so hard that their teeth collided. But that was okay, that was better than okay, because he had his eyes open and he was looking at her and he knew damn well who it was he held.
“Kit,” he said, stroking his callused, gifted hands down her body and lifting her just enough that he could thrust into her.
Hard. Fast. Deep.
A guttural scream ripped out of her. She’d thrown out her hands for balance when he spun her, clawed at the wall as he pulled out then slammed back in. Barely able to hold herself together, she put her hands on his face, on that part of him he so rarely allowed anyone to touch, and held him, their eyes locked together and their breaths colliding as he pounded her into the wall.
The scent of him was hot, masculine, and Noah. Just Noah.
Her body knew his, wanted his, and her heart, it was his.
Her orgasm was inevitable. The last things she saw were Noah’s eyes looking into hers, the dark gray wild. His body slammed into her one final time and went rigid, his fingers digging into her flesh and his chest crushing her breasts.