Trust Fund Fiance - Naima Simone Page 0,41

consummating their marriage; she’d avoided the conversation, unsure if it would be wise to go there with him. No, it wasn’t wise. But God, she wanted it.

Even though she trembled with nerves and foolish excitement, she stared at him as she slowly dragged down the side zipper on her simple but elegant sleeveless gown. The white satin loosened, and she slid the skinny strap down one arm, then removed the other. Heart thudding almost painfully in her chest and her breath so loud it echoed in her head, she pushed the material down until it bunched at her hips. A small shimmy, and the dress flowed down her legs to pool around her feet.

The urge to dive for the bed and hide beneath the covers rose strong and hard inside her, but she forced herself to stay still, clad only in a nude strapless bra, matching thong and sheer, lace-topped thigh-high stockings. Then, notching her chin up, she silently ordered her arms to remain by her side, her fingers to remain unclenched.

She couldn’t do anything about the shiver that worked its way through her body though. Or the throbbing of her pulse at her neck. Or the gooseflesh that popped up along her arms.

Or the moisture that even now gathered in her sex, no doubt drenching her barely-there panties. All he would have to do was lower that penetrating gaze down her torso and center it between her thighs to see the evidence of his affect on her.

That knowledge both thrilled and unnerved her.

She lifted her gaze from the solid width of his chest, where she’d focused all of her attention while she’d performed her impromptu striptease. And, oh God, what she spied there.

Raw, animalistic lust. Those green eyes burned bright with it. An answering coil tightened low in her belly, and she pressed a palm to the ache. His gaze dropped, and when it flicked back up to hers, she couldn’t contain the whimper that escaped her. So much heat. So much hunger.

Had anyone ever looked at her as if she were their sustenance, sanity and survival?

No. No one had. Not the few lovers she’d had.

Not even Gavin.

What did it say about her that Ezekiel owned her with that look? That if she’d harbored even the tiniest of doubts about giving herself to him, that needy, ravenous, necessary stare undid every snarled tangle of doubt?

Slowly, he straightened, removing his hands from his pockets, and stalked forward, eliminating the distance between them. He didn’t stop until not even a breath could’ve slid between them.

The wall of his solid chest brushed her nipples, sending arcs of sizzling pleasure from the tips to the clenching, empty flesh between her damp thighs. His muscular thighs pressed to hers, and against her belly... She shuddered, desire striking her middle like a lightning bolt. His thick, hard cock burrowed against her belly, and before she could think better of tempting the beast, she ground herself against his mouthwatering length. More than anything, she wanted him to possess every part of her.

“Playing with fire, Ray?” One of his big hands gripped her hip. But not to control her. To jerk her closer. To roll those lean hips and give her more of what she’d just taken.

Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, her lashes fluttering. But when his fingers dived into her hair, clenching the strands and tugging so pinpricks scattered across her scalp, she opened her eyes, meeting his. He didn’t handle her with kid gloves, didn’t treat her like this demure, sheltered socialite or a fragile girl. And God, she loved it. Wanted more.

“I’m not playing,” she breathed, stroking her hands up his strong back and digging her nails into the dense muscle there. “No games between us.”

“No games,” he repeated in that same grit-and-granite voice. “How novel an idea.” He lowered his head and nipped at her bottom lip. Then soothed the minute sting with a sweep of his tongue.

She groaned, leaning her head back into his grasp.

“You’ve showed me this pretty little body, almost making me come with just the sight of you. But I want the words, sweetheart. Tell me you want this—me—in your bed. In your body. Tell me...” He bent his head, pressing his forehead to hers. His breath pulsed against her lips, and she could almost taste the dark delight of his kiss. “Tell me you won’t regret this in the morning.”

Rising on her toes, she grazed her mouth over his. Returned for a harder, wetter taste. His