bladder, his bowels beforehand if needed, depending on the time of day. He was lucky enough not to have to wear a catheter bag, but he still had to cath himself to void his bladder. He wasn’t going to go into detail on those things with her, though. Not if he didn’t have to do so.
“So that’s it. The high level.” He stroked the tops of her breasts, moved up to the pocket at the base of her throat, logging every reaction, the glazing in her eyes as he teased her flesh. Maybe he would deep suckle those two pretty breasts she kept innocently flashing at him, or put his hand between her legs and bring her to climax again. Her arousal was a need he craved to satisfy, much as he wanted to keep driving it back up for his viewing pleasure, again and again.
“We don’t have to take that step today, tomorrow, or anytime soon,” he said. “We can give one another pleasure without it. But there’s a caveman part of me that wants to do it as a claiming, Daralyn.” He paused, his thumb resting on her neck pulse, stroking in a slow firm way that had her breath shortening. “I do want you to belong to me,” he said.
Her dark eyes glowed with a fire that shot straight through his center. A neon sign in his book that she wasn’t just accepting that statement with meek resignation. Then her words confirmed it. Her fingers curled over his hands, holding them. “Are you sure we can’t do those things now?”
It was the closest she’d come to saying she wanted something with words. And it figured, that the first thing she straight out asked him for, no way to interpret it any other way, was something he wasn’t so sure was a good idea for her yet.
Falling out of one’s chair was one of the most important fears to overcome. The best way to do it was to learn how to get back into the chair when it happened. Because then that fear wouldn’t stand in the way of anything you wanted.
She needed to know he wouldn’t back off every time she had a breakdown. That he trusted her to decide whether she could get up, dust herself off and keep going, or if she needed to try another day.
She needed to know when he read those messages from her as clearly as he did right now, he wouldn’t back away from them.
“No,” he said. “We don’t have to wait.”
Chapter Nine
Now it was his turn to prop himself on an elbow. He put his hand on her chest, exerting pressure to tell her he wanted her flat on her back. She obeyed, resting nervous hands on her abdomen. He moved his hand from her chest there, curling his fingers over her overlapped wrists, a light manacle that captured her attention. He felt the texture of the scar on the underside of her forearm as he ran his thumb over it.
“I’m going to go into your bathroom,” he said. “I’ll be a few minutes. While I’m in there, I want you to be warm.” He reached over, lifted his dress shirt off the end of the bed. “Put this on.”
He transferred himself back into his chair as she sat up to don the shirt. Going to her dresser, he found a drawer full of cotton underwear in a variety of pastel shades. He chose pink, and returned, laying it on one slender leg. “And these.”
Surprise crossed her gaze, no doubt because he was having her put on clothes. But that was because he liked the look, a woman in his shirt and a simple pair of panties. When she complied, moving onto her knees to make it happen, her long hair fell forward over her shoulders. The neckline of his shirt revealed the curve of her breast. She’d only buttoned the two buttons in the middle. When she was done, she hesitated, then lay back again, the way he’d originally put her.
“Good,” he said, warm approval in his voice. “Put your fingers inside the panties, on yourself.” His gaze flicked meaningful in that direction. “Don’t move those fingers. You just rest them there. Think about how I’m going to touch you, put my mouth on you, put my cock inside you, when I come back.”
“Rory…” His name was a breath on her lips.
“You are so goddamn beautiful,” he said. “Nothing you want is wrong, you know that? And if