Heir to a Desert Legacy - By Maisey Yates Page 0,52

man should have to be.

“Are you planning on writing all this on your whiteboard?”

“Possibly.”

“Why are you talking so much?”

“Because I don’t know what else to do,” she said, laughing, the sound nervous and unnatural. “I’ve never been in this position before.” Let him think she only meant with a man tied up and at her mercy. And not just every single thing about the situation.

Until that moment in the hall, she’d never been truly kissed. And now...

Now she was here. But at least the pace would be up to her. How far things went would be up to her. But the scary thing was she didn’t trust herself to stop. The body and brain disconnect at work again.

She leaned down and kissed his lips and he responded, then she abandoned his lips in favor of his neck, his chest. She pressed kisses to his muscles, feeling him stiffen beneath her, his muscles tensing, getting tighter.

“You like that?” she asked.

His only response was a grunt that she took as a yes. She slid down his body, tracing his abs with the tip of her tongue.

His body jerked beneath her.

“If my hands were free....” he said.

“But they aren’t.” She felt herself slipping in to her role. Felt herself relishing the power. In taking some weight from him. In taking control of herself. Her life. “You’re mine tonight.”

She started to reach for his pants. She could see the outline of his erection, thick, much larger than she’d imagined. And she stopped. She wasn’t ready for that, not quite yet.

Skin to skin. That was what she wanted. She reached behind her back and gripped the zipper tab for her dress, tugging it down and letting the bodice fall to her hips, then she quickly undid her bra leaving herself bare from the waist up.

It wasn’t her nudity that filled her with insecurity, at least, not the part of it she’d imagined might bother her.

It was the fact that her stomach wasn’t flat. That deep grooves, evidence of the life she’d carried inside of her, stretched over her entire midsection. It was the fear that it had been too long since she’d breastfed and she might embarrass herself.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“Um...what are you thinking?”

“I’m not,” he said. “I can’t think at all, not with you bared to me like this. Not when I’m finally seeing your breasts. Gorgeous.”

“Men are easy to please,” she said.

“In some ways.”

“I’m glad about that.” Because she didn’t know any accomplished, practiced ways to please a man. And she found she did want to please him.

She took a breath and leaned forward, pressing her breasts against his chest. He took a breath and his chest hair scraped against her nipples, the friction sending a shock of pleasure through her body.

“I’m so sensitive there now,” she said. “I never was before. But...oh, you feel so good.”

“So do you.”

She arched her back into him, moving back and forth, the stimulation sending waves of desire from the place where they made contact to the apex of her thighs. She was wet for him, the hollow ache widening inside of her. And she knew exactly what it would take to quench the ache, to fill the emptiness.

And then she was ready for him. To see him, touch him. Interesting, and something she would note later when her brain wasn’t so fuzzy. Arousal, when intensified, seemed to decrease the ability to feel nervous.

She hooked her fingers in the waistband of his pants and dragged them down his legs. She paused for a moment just to look at him, to take in her first, up close and personal sight of a naked, erect man.

Chloe reached out and touched his shaft with the tip of her finger. He was hot. Hard. His skin surprisingly smooth. A harsh groan escaped his lips and his body jerked beneath hers again. He wanted free, she could sense it. But he hadn’t asked. And she wouldn’t offer.

Growing bolder, she wrapped her fingers around his length, squeezing him, gently at first, then more tightly. The tighter grasp earned her a sharp hiss of indrawn breath, his muscles so tight they shook.

“Like that?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, biting out a sharp curse. “Yes.”

“I’m not very experienced at this,” she said, glossing over the truth again.

“You’re doing fine.” She squeezed again. “Better than fine.”

“Good.” A shocking thought occurred to her, a craving she’d never imagined she might have. “Do you like it when a woman puts her mouth on you?”

“What?” he asked.

“Do you