Chapter 13

They rushed to Derek’s place. It was the one closer to the gym.

As soon as they entered, Derek took Annabella in his arms and started kissing her again.

His mouth on hers was firm and warm; the hands tangled in her hair were gentle. Men usually rushed, wanted to touch what they’d been dreaming of. They always moved on to stage two long before she was ready. But Derek made love to her mouth slowly, reverently, as if he had an eternity just to kiss her, as if he enjoyed the melding of lips and tongue as much as she did.

When he lifted his head, she sighed, disappointed, but before she could lead him to the bed, he buried his face in her hair, then sweetly kissed her neck, her jaw, the corner of her eye.

His hands wrapped around her waist, and she waited for them to surge upward, cup her breasts. Instead, he kept his hands right where they were, thumbs tracing the quivering muscles of her belly.

She chastised herself for comparing past to present. How many times already had Derek demonstrated he was unlike other men?

As if to prove her every thought true, his mouth returned to hers and time lost its hold on them. His lips nibbled and caressed, nipped and suckled. The man could certainly kiss.

“Off,” she muttered and pulled up his T-shirt.

He obliged, tugging the garment over his head. And then he stood before her in shorts.

Her fingertips fluttered over his chest, his belly, rubbing against the ridge of muscles. His indrawn breath tightened the muscles of his stomach.

Annabella ran her fingers up his rib cage, tangled them in the soft hair across his chest. Then she tore her mouth from his.

She trailed her fingers across his chest, over the spike of his nipples, then through the path of hair that disappeared into his pants.

She hooked her fingers in the waistband and tugged. “Off,” she repeated.

He grinned a crooked smile, and she had to smile, too. She felt as though she could demand anything of him that she desired.

He pulled his shorts down slowly.

“Now...” he skimmed his palm down the side of her face. He dropped to his knees and pressed his mouth to the skin between her shirt and her shorts. She let out a loud moan, and the shudder that wracked her body made her knees tremble. He steadied her with his hands on her hips, then drew a taste of her skin into his mouth and suckled.

Her fingers on his shoulders clenched. His skin was hot and smooth; she touched his back, caressed his hair, then held his mouth right where it was.

His hands lowered, cupping her rear, sliding down her thighs, and then his fingers explored her calves, and his thumbs stroked higher and higher until he traced the quivering skin just beneath the ragged hem of her shorts. She held her breath, waited for him to go higher still, but he didn’t. Instead, he pressed one last open-mouthed kiss to her belly and stood.

Without a word, he took her hand and led her to the bed.

She looked up once more, and his mouth took hers. No longer gentle, she didn’t mind. She stroked his pulsing member with her hand as his tongue mimicked the movement within her mouth.

Moments later he lifted his head and stilled her caress. “You’re driving me crazy.” His voice was breathless.

The idea of making this strong man need, of making such a serene man yearn, aroused her.

He didn’t care that he was naked and she was not. He didn’t tug at her clothes; he didn’t yank her onto the bed. Instead, he lay down and let her look at him. It was a first for him since he was hurt.