in his ears made it impossible for him to hear her. Maybe in 20 years, he might be immune to the sight of her body, but he sure as hell wasn’t today.
Definitely not today.
In a dream, he saw her moving towards him, in his bedroom, in this house he swore he’d never show her, and she was undoing his belt, tugging it out, pulling his zipper down, cupping him through his boxer briefs. He wasn’t sure he wanted this, but he also knew he could never tell her no. He was embarrassed by his home, sure, but not that embarrassed.
Not embarrassed enough to turn down the opportunity to make love to Carla Grahame.
Chapter 21
Carla
They’re kissing again. Do we have to hear the kissing part?
~Grandson in The Princess Bride
Was it bad that she was forcing this to happen?
Well, maybe ‘force’ was the wrong word. She wasn’t raping him, after all. She was just taking the lead. There was a difference. She was a woman who knew what she wanted and how she wanted it. That was allowed.
Okay, so that wasn’t it at all. The truth of the matter was, she was starting to understand Christian. It didn’t take Sherlock to figure out that he was embarrassed about where he lived, something she could more than relate to, and making love in it? It was the ultimate show of acceptance. She could tell him all day long that his place outranked hers – he at least had a damn shower and a kitchen sink – but he’d never believe her.
This was her speaking the truth without words – something more effective than words – that in her world, he was what mattered. Not where he lived or what he made.
Only him.
She stepped back out of the circle of his arms and pulled the side zipper down on her swishy skirt, as she liked to call it, letting the whisper of fabric pool around her feet.
Christian’s dark chocolate eyes went black with lust and, sucking in a breath, took a step towards her.
“No,” she breathed, and his hand stopped mid-air. “Not yet.”
Despite her I-am-a-woman, hear-me-roar thoughts of just moments before, the truth of the matter was, she’d never taken the lead in the bedroom. Based on her very extensive survey of romance novels, rom-coms, and the occasional R-rated movie, she’d always known her handful of experiences in college had fallen short of how mind-blowing sex should be.
Way short.
Six weeks ago, Christian had showed her that she hadn’t been wrong her whole life. Love really was magical, and today, she wanted to be in charge of that magic.
His eyes held the question he didn’t ask as Carla stepped out of the pooled skirt, feeling the cool of the AC air flow over her skin, pebbling her nipples.
Or maybe it was the lust growing inside of her. She could be in charge, and she could like it.
With trembling hands, she tugged on the waistband of Christian’s smart, new dark blue jeans until they slid over his slim hips and pooled around his ankles. Too late, she realized her mistake – he still had his cowboy boots on. He wouldn’t be able to step out of his jeans like she’d stepped out of her skirt.
With a disgruntled sigh, she let him take control again for just a moment, toeing off his boots and dropping his jeans in a pile. When he straightened, she grinned naughtily at the jutting front of his boxer-briefs.
“Is that a pistol in there, or are you happy to see me?” she murmured in her best Mae West voice as she moved forward to cup him through the fabric. He reached for her again but she leaned up and tapped her finger lightly against his lips. “Not yet,” she whispered again.
He groaned.
She grinned.
Slowly, she began unbuttoning his dress shirt, each slide of a button through the cotton revealing another inch of tempting tanned skin. Just for a moment, she pondered the idea of buying him a pearl-snap button-up shirt – or ten – to make access to his chest an easier affair, but then decided against it. She liked unwrapping him slowly, like a birthday present just for her.
The last button released, she slid her hands up his sculptured chest, feeling the muscles jump beneath her fingers, and then, her hands at his rounded shoulders, she pushed the shirt down, letting it slide down his arms to join the jeans on the ground.
That was better. Now they were even – her in her