Confessions from the Quilting Circle - Maisey Yates Page 0,94
I was...hot?”
“I knew you were handsome. Very handsome. And in decent shape. But, I feel like you should warn a woman that you’re quite so...you know—” she waved her hand “—this, before she commits to coming upstairs and getting naked with you.”
“Why is that? Is there something repellent about me being hot?”
“No. But if you’re expecting...that,” she said, pointing to his stomach, “to be under here—” she pointed to her own “—then you are sadly mistaken.”
“Rachel Henderson,” he said, his voice a growl. “I have had inappropriate thoughts about all the things that might be under your clothes for a lot longer than I care to admit. Based on the amount of time I’ve spent looking at your body, I’d say that I have a pretty fair idea of what I’m going to find there. And when I do, I’m not going to be disappointed—I am going to say a damned prayer of thanks. And then I’m going to touch you, everywhere. And I’m going to taste you, everywhere.”
The erotic thrill those words elicited sent a shiver through her entire body. She wasn’t inexperienced, not by any stretch. She had been married for years, and they’d had a fulfilling, uninhibited sex life during most of that time.
But that was him. Jacob. And this was Adam. And it was like two completely different things.
Jacob, she had known. Jacob she had loved.
Their intimacy had grown and increased and changed over the years.
They had learned sexuality with each other, and they had honed it to something perfect between them.
He knew just how to touch her, and she knew just how to touch him. Desire created and satisfied between just the two of them. She knew all the things he liked.
She had known how to speed him up when he was taking too long, and she had also known just which way to move to help herself get where she needed to go if she was having difficulty.
They had a routine. A dance. Something that had been raised to high art after all that time together.
This was an unknown, and she felt both inhibited and secure in the moment. And utterly, completely captivated by the promise in his words and his eyes. No matter how afraid she was, she couldn’t stop now. Didn’t want to. And while all her experience might be reduced to essentially nothing as she stood before this man, there was something to be said for age.
Because at the base of it all she didn’t fear rejection. She didn’t fear disappointing him. She was more afraid of her own disappointment. Of putting herself through this monumental event, and having this brilliant body at her disposal, and it not living up to what it promised.
She reached behind her back, ready to undo the zipper on her dress, but he stopped her.
“Let me,” he said. “You’re a gift I’ve been waiting to unwrap for a long time.”
He approached her, grabbed hold of the zipper tab and pulled it down slowly, achingly so. And what she hadn’t told Anna or her daughter was that she had gone to even more care choosing her underwear for the evening.
It was black lace, and her bra matched her panties, because just in case.
She had also shaved and waxed herself within an inch of her life, so that everything was neat and orderly and smooth. And she wondered who she’d had in mind when she’d done that. Wondered what she’d been thinking in her subconscious.
Especially when she’d driven over here.
He let out a curse, short and sharp, as her dress pooled at her feet.
“You’re perfect,” he said, pulling her body up against his again. His skin was hot, his body hard, and his chest hair beneath her palms was...just right.
“Beautiful,” he whispered as he kissed her mouth. As he stripped the rest of the clothes from her body, and the rest of the clothes from his. As he laid her down on the bed, those rough hands skimming over her body. Unfamiliar hands, unfamiliar movements. But they brought out a response in her, all the same. So intense, almost too intense. She was so afraid she was going to cry. And almost more afraid that she was going to come with him barely having touched her.
She had missed this.
This intimacy.
Skin on skin, a kiss that could take you to a deep, heavy place, transport you somewhere new. Desire that knotted up your stomach and made you feel like you couldn’t breathe.