by Layla Nash
Chapter 13
I drowned in him. Edgar's hands flexed against my sides as he kissed me. It felt so natural, so right, that I forgot to be nervous or afraid or uneasy. I just felt. He was pure sensation, pure heat and fire. When he finally broke the kiss, my knees wobbled and I would have fallen completely if he hadn't held me against his chest. Edgar chuckled, an odd mix with the grumbling purr in his chest, and his lips brushed mine once more. "Doing okay?"
"Yeah." I felt warm all over, flushed and nervous and jumpy. I wanted to touch his bare skin, to feel him over me and next to me and ... in me. My cheeks burned.
"Good," he murmured. Edgar still held me close against him but he looked up and down the hall before shaking his head. "We need a couch."
"A couch?" I bit my lip as I looked at him. "Wouldn't a b-bed be..."
"We're not ready for a bed yet," he said, a hint of a frown on his forehead. I opened my mouth to ask, a little embarrassed that I just wanted to get things over with, but Edgar ducked his head and kissed me again. I met him hungrily, sliding my hands into his hair to hold him closer, and didn't even care if I was a clumsy fool. It felt amazing to kiss him, to be kissed, to be touched. Edgar broke away but nibbled on my ear as I panted and leaned against him. "I have a plan for you, darlin'."
"A plan?"
"Oh yes." His voice went all deep and grumbly, and heat grew in my center as my thighs clenched. A plan.
"That sounds... intense. Are you sure we can't just — do it?"
Edgar smiled, and a hint of the predator glinted in his eyes. My heart leapt. He caressed my cheek and studied my mouth, running his thumb over my lips. "We have a lot of bases to cover before we get to the big event. So first, we're going to watch a movie."
"A movie." I frowned as he caught my hand and led me toward his room. "Why?"
"Rite of passage, Ivy." Edgar opened the door but paused to kiss me again, nibbling on my lower lip. "Sitting on the couch watching a movie, making out and hoping your parents or brothers don't interrupt... It's stage one of the plan."
"Stage one." I laughed a little under my breath, letting him tug me into the living room of his suite. He winked and squeezed my butt as he nudged me toward the giant, overstuffed couch. Edgar fussed with the flat screen television and the pile of electronics around it, pointing remotes and clicking buttons, then he dimmed the lights until only the screen lit the room. I cleared my throat as he faced me, the lion shining from his eyes. "So how many, uh, stages are there?"
"Haven't decided yet," he said, and took a stalking step toward me. My pulse raced and I waned to squirm at the intensity in his gaze. His hands slid to my waist to pull me close, and his head tilted until he kissed my neck, nipped my shoulder. My breath caught and my head fell back and I probably would have fallen if he hadn't eased us both to the couch. "Definitely at least four."
"Four?" I blinked, trying to untangle myself to sit up as some old movie started to play, but Edgar pulled my legs over his lap and started arranging pillows and blankets around us. And then he settled back on the couch, his hand resting on my thigh.
Edgar played with my hair. "Well, we really need to explore first base and make sure you've got a good foundation in kissing. That's stage one. Stage two is above the waist." He played with the hem of my t-shirt, exposing just a hint of my stomach, and I flushed, squirming against him. Edgar ran his finger inside the waist of my jeans, his voice going low and husky. "And stage three is playing below the waist. I have plans for a few more stages after that, so we'll see."
I could hardly breathe, watching the progress of his hand as he inched his way around to my side. He glanced up when we were nose-to-nose, a hint of a smile making him less intimidating. "I'm interested in finding out what you're hiding in here, but not just yet. I'm patient. I can be patient."
"I don't know if I can wait that long," I whispered. My heart pounded so loud I wondered if he could hear. I wanted to see him, to touch him, to let him touch me. Part of me planned to sleep with him immediately, to get to the finish line finally and move on. Remove 'virgin' from that list of attributes that followed me around. I'd assumed he would want to get to the fucking, not play around with making out and second base and shit I'd heard about in movies.
Edgar settled back in the couch, his arm around my waist to keep me close, and winked. "Good things come to those who wait."
"Can mediocre things come sooner?" A desperate wanting gave me the courage to touch his thigh, his side, tug at the buttons on his shirt, sit up so I could wrap my arm around his neck and drag his mouth to mine.
He laughed but it was different — deeper, almost throaty. And the lion kept purring. He kissed me until the world grew dark around the edges and sensation collected where we touched — his lips to mine, his hand sliding under my t-shirt. Heat coiled low in my stomach, spreading desire through me until I moaned. I wanted him. I needed him. He was so damn warm, and I'd been so cold for so long.
When Edgar leaned toward me, I resisted for a heartbeat — until he murmured, "Lean back, Ivy," against my lips and my breath caught. In the dark room, everything felt warm and close and possible. I lay back against the pile of pillows and his weight settled over me, on me. I couldn't breathe, from excitement rather than the comforting press of his chest against mine, and wiggled under him. He moved and his thigh pressed between mine, sparking a shiver of ecstasy through me. I tensed and Edgar paused, his breathing a little rushed. "Do you want me to stop?"
"No, God no." I shivered and tugged at the front of his shirt, giving up on the buttons to slide my hands under his shirt to the heated expanse of skin across his back. "Please don't."
Edgar groaned and dropped his head to kiss my neck. His teeth scraped along my jaw and he grumbled. "You're ruining my plan, girl."
"No plan survives first contact with the enemy," I managed to say, though the last words disappeared in a gasp as he gripped my side. The strength of his hands made my insides melt. I pulled my knees up on instinct, wanting him closer to my center, wanting to feel his hips against me.
He snorted and then sighed, sitting up enough to drag my shirt off, then shed his own. “Stage two, then."
I bit my lip as I looked up at him, flushing as he looked down at me in only my borrowed, ill-fitting bra. Edgar smiled, tracing the band of the bra across my ribs, and I shivered. He placed a kiss just over my bellybutton, above the waist of my jeans. Edgar's mouth blazed a trail up my body to my breasts, and his hand slid under my back to fuss with the hooks.
I closed my eyes and arched my back, trying to help him out, and then the bra disappeared and cool air drifted over my skin. Every inch of my chest. My breasts tightened, nipples hardening, and I flushed more. Embarrassed, but I couldn't have said why. Edgar chuckled and his palms slid up my sides to tease my nipples. "Beautiful. Perfect."
For a heart-stopping moment, panic closed my throat. Perfect until he saw my back. The scars. Lines and lines and lines of tissue samples. Injections. I suddenly couldn't breathe. Edgar paused, waiting, and held himself over me. My hands shook. What the hell was I doing? I hardly knew him. I had goals to accomplish. I couldn't just roll around on a couch with him. Even if he looked amazing, all hard and muscled and covered in tattoos. The button-down shirts and expensive suits hid tattoos from his wrists to his shoulders and across his chest, probably his back as well. I stared up at him, my brain stalled, and couldn't think of a single thing to say.
Edgar made that rumbly purr sound and leaned down to kiss me gently. He nuzzled his nose to mine, and the sharp panic dulled around the edges. "What do you think isn't perfect?"
"Wh-what?" I couldn't stop touching him, my hands on his arms, drifting up his biceps. I wanted to be close to him but a million things stood between us.
"You panicked when I said you're perfect." Edgar's fingertips drifted across my collarbone in a soft caress. "Tell me why."
"Why do you have so many tattoos?" I whispered, tracing the lines of a massive dragon that curled from his chest
and around his side.
He smiled, kissing my jaw, behind my ear, down my throat until I sighed and relaxed under him, moving against him as everything got slow and heated. Edgar settled a little closer. "For a while, the only thing I could really feel was pain. It was the only way I knew I was still alive. So I got tattoos. I did a lot of other stupid shit, too, but the only evidence that remains are the tattoos."
I stroked behind his ear, where I'd seen the hint of a blue smudge. "On your head, too?"
"Everywhere," he said. His eyes glinted in the dark, reflected gold with sudden heat. "I don't think I can show you the rest until we get to stage three, though."
I flushed, lifting my head to look down the length of our bodies to where his thigh pressed between mine, then stared up at him. "What? Really?"
"Oh yes." His palm drifted under my breast as he studied me. "But you're not going to distract me, despite having unbelievable breasts. I will definitely give them a great deal of attention, but first you're going to tell me why you panicked when I said you're perfect."
Tattoos were so much more interesting than lines of scars. Maybe I could cover them up with ink, like his. Hide the pain and shame with colorful pictures. Flowers. Dragons. I frowned as I touched a tribal design on his chest, brushing his nipple. "I have scars. Lots of scars."
"I know," Edgar said.
My breath caught. "You do? How?"
"You were hurt." Edgar rested on his elbows as I shivered, and his body radiated warmth. He felt like an electric blanket, wrapping himself around me. "I bandaged your wounds that first night. I saw the scars."
I frowned up at him. "I hate them. I really do."
"Well," he said, and leaned to study my side, where a few lines crept around from my back. "You're in luck, because I know a hell of a tattoo artist. If you want to cover them up, we can make that happen. But they're part of what makes you, you, Ivy. I wouldn't change an inch."
"I don't want to talk about the scars," I said. I caught his face in my hands. "I want to talk about stage three."
He laughed. "We haven't properly addressed stage two."
"Then get to work." I couldn't think about the scars, or his tattoos, or the meeting tomorrow. I couldn't think about anything other than him, or I'd lose my nerve. I needed him. I needed his distraction. I needed the light in his eyes and the purr in his chest, I needed everything about him. And that was scary as hell.
Chapter 14
He knew from the catch in her voice and the false bravado that that particular conversation wasn't over, but he didn't want to push her. Scars were personal things. Too personal to discuss while half-naked on a couch, at least until they got to know each other a little better. He wanted to laugh at the thought of it being easier to sleep together than talk about her scars or why tattoos covered every part of him that Anna had touched.
But if she wanted to be distracted, he wanted to distract her. A hint of nerves still tightened the skin around her eyes, so he took his time. Kissed her until she melted and sighed under him, until her arm drifted around his neck to pull him close, until her hips rolled against him in invitation. Edgar didn't stop kissing her as he squeezed her breast, rewarded with a sharp gasp, but he carried on leisurely. Her nails left furrows in his sides as he nibbled his way down her throat, across her collarbone, down to her nipple.
Ivy moaned as he licked and sucked on the hardened bud, gripping his hair with surprising strength. He tweaked one with his fingers as he bit the other and she went rigid, eyes wide. The lion loved that expression. Loved the sounds she made and the way her skin smelled like desire. He wanted to see her sweat. Wanted to hear her climax, preferably with her thighs wrapped around his neck.
He took his time, despite his dick pressing painfully against his jeans, until she begged him for more. The lion wanted to spread her out on his bed and strip her down so he could touch all of her. Edgar tugged at the front of her jeans and murmured, "Are you ready for stage three?"
"Finally," she said. She tugged at his belt. "Let's go."
"Not so fast." Edgar captured her hands. "We're taking our time, Ivy."
"Why?" She leaned up and kissed him, quick — the first time she'd initiated. "I just want —"
"Because it's worth waiting for. I promise." He shoved to his feet before he ended up letting her take off his belt and discover where his tattoos ended, and picked her up, tossing her over his shoulder as he walked into the bedroom. He hadn't bothered to make his bed before they left for the Auction, but he didn't care as he placed her on the rumpled sheets. Less work to do.
Edgar's knee indented the mattress next to her thigh as he leaned down and unbuttoned her jeans, working the zipper as he watched her expression. She watched his hands, holding her breath, and lifted her hips so he could drag the jeans away. He stood back, gently squeezing her ankle as he surveyed her. Soft curves, the gentle swell of her hips, the pink panties with a bow on the waist, a line of marks on her thigh that could have been cuts or injections or any number of things. He didn't care. “Stage three."
She sighed and folded her hands over her stomach, almost prim as she watched him stand between her feet at the end of the bed. He laughed, then patted her hip. "Scoot back a little."
"What is stage three, exactly?" she asked, though she wiggled back on his bed until she lay on the pillows. Watching him with those big eyes.
"I get to kiss you somewhere else," Edgar said. A question formed on her lips until he stroked the inside of her thigh, then her cheeks flamed and her eyes got wider still. He chuckled and knelt between her feet, easing her legs apart until he could see all of her. Only the thin cotton of her panties separated him from her sex, but the heady scent of her desire curled through his brain.
Edgar toyed with the lace and cotton, then drew the scrap of fabric down her long legs. She giggled in a breathy rush, staring at him as he studied her. He loved the sounds she made, particularly the gasp when he nibbled on the soft inside of her thigh. The stubble on his jaw made her jump, and she grabbed double fistfuls of the sheets. Her breasts rose and fell faster as he worked his way to the apex of her thighs, licking and kissing and tasting every inch of her.
Ivy's head fell back on the pillows and her back arched when he finally kissed right above her clit. She sighed his name and it shot through him in a lightning rush. He tasted her, dipped lower, took his time. Worked her over with his mouth until she moaned and her hips rolled to meet him. She looked amazing, sprawled across his bed, and Edgar fought the urge to strip down and join her in ecstasy.
Her abs tensed as he teased her entrance, stroking gently as he sucked the hard nub that made her cry out, and Edgar eased the tip of his finger inside her. Moved inside her with a gentle rocking that she met eagerly, her fingers sliding into his hair to drag his face against her pussy.
He wanted it to last forever. Wanted to lay there all night and watch her thrash around, watch her come and know he was the one who did it. Wanted to taste her again and again, to touch the slippery flesh of her sex, explore her body and make every possible experience amazing. Show her how desperately wonderful intimacy could be.
But she came in a flash, going rigid under his careful manipulation, then bucked and cried out and touched her breasts. He didn't back off, driving her through the climax as her muscles tightened around his fingers, tried to drag him closer, and gently coaxed her into another. And another. Until she lay boneless and covered in sweat, tangled in him and his sheets, panting for breath.
Only then did he slide up her body to lay next to her, glad he kept his pants on because the temptation to fit himself to her only increased with the wanton abandon of her pleasure. He couldn't wait to finally enter her, to lose himself in the tight heat of her body. Edgar bit back a groan as his palm drifted over her breast and rested against her ribs, counting her racing heartbeats. "Doing okay?"
"Better than okay," she sighed. She stretched, languid, and patted low on his stomach, close to where his dick tried to punch through h
is jeans. "Your turn?"
"You don't have to do anything," he said, even though just the thought of walking away from her soft hands and softer lips took a year off his life. "I just like to watch you."
She looked at him from under her eyelashes, her expression a blend of coy innocence and lust, and he groaned. Ivy tugged at his belt once more. "Isn't that part of stage three? Or is that four?"
He was lost. Utterly lost. Edgar held his breath as she unbuckled his belt and worked at the button, then exhaled in a gust. "I have no idea what stage. None."
"Good." Ivy sat up, glorious in her nakedness, and her hand slid inside his jeans. Inside his briefs until she found his cock and his hips moved in a slow thrust against her palm. Her eyes widened and her hand tightened around him.
Edgar swallowed a curse and lifted his hips so she could drag his jeans off. The lion grumbled, wanting everything to move faster, but he held on to the mattress so he wouldn't grab her and roll her under him. Ivy traced the lines of a tattoo across his abs and down the cut of muscle to his groin. His cock twitched as her wrist brushed it, and Ivy bit her lip as she considered the thick head and the bead of liquid that appeared on the tip. He took a deep breath and released part of his death-grip on the sheets, captured her hand with his, and helped her grip his shaft. He clenched his jaw at her soft touch, the whisper of a stroke, and tightened his hold around her hand until she moved and his hips moved to meet her. Edgar grumbled and thrust against her hand again as Ivy grew bolder, teasing the tip of his cock with her fingers, and he groaned. "That's it. A little faster."
Pleasure short-circuited his brain as her grip tightened, telescoped, and his fingers bit into the mattress to keep him from moving. He didn't want to startle her. And not just because he wouldn't finish if she got scared. He didn't want fear between them. Edgar took a breath to suggest she go faster still but paused when she stopped entirely. He lifted his head to look at her and his entire body jerked as she licked the head of his cock. He cursed as she sucked the tip into her mouth and stroked him at the same time, and pressure gathered in his balls.