Page 39 of Dare to Love
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Riley woke up surrounded in heat, Ian’s strong arms wrapped securely around her. A glance at the clock on the nightstand told her it was nearly eleven p.m. She inhaled and smelled his delicious masculine scent. She wished she could remain in the safe cocoon of his arms and leave her problems behind. A scary thought, as last night returned in vivid detail.
She’d given guys blow jobs before. It always seemed to be a tit for tat kind of thing with most men, but she’d neverwantedto give one to a man so badly.
She’d needed to take Ian into her mouth, to taste him, to give him the badly needed release of his stress and pain. He’d needed to see that someone in his life cared enough about him to put his feelings first. She’d wanted to be the one to show him he mattered.
What she hadn’t anticipated was her own reaction to his need to control. He’d gripped her hair. Her breasts had throbbed. He’d pulled harder. She’d moaned. He’d cupped her head in his big hand, and she’d nearly come from the feeling of being restrained. The other night, he’d tied her to the headboard, and she’d come apart, harder and faster than ever before.
Hadn’t her father held her mother down and beat her? Hadn’t he dragged her across the room by her hair? So what did it say about Riley that she liked being dominated in any way?
She exhaled hard, a low groan escaping from her throat.
“You’re awake?” he asked in a deep voice.
“Mmm-hmm. Did you sleep too?”
“No.”
She blinked into the darkness. “You just stayed with me?”
His arms tightened around her. “Yes.”
She didn’t know what to make of that.
The silence reverberated around them until she decided she’d overstayed her welcome. Both for her own peace of mind and probably his.
“I should go,” she said, beginning her slide out of bed.
“Don’t.”
She stilled. Her heart beat a staccato rhythm, panic filling her at the dichotomy she’d discovered within herself.
“Stay,” he said, an underlying tremor in that one word.
Her instinct to soothe him overrode her own sense of fear, and she rolled to her side, facing him. Her next words didn’t come easily. “You have to realize that we couldn’t be more different.”
He narrowed his gaze. “We’ve had enough dinners together for you to know we have plenty in common,” he said.
She couldn’t help but grin at his attempt to deliberately misunderstand her point. “You know what I mean.”
“I do.” His body stiffened, but he continued. “Clearly we’ve both got issues. But you’re talking about my sexual needs, and that’s your fear talking. You liked everything we’ve done together.”
She had. And that was the problem. She couldn’t accept it.
His domineering ways went against everything she wanted for herself. It reminded her too much of the emotional upheaval and painful childhood she’d left behind.
He leaned over and pressed his lips to hers with such extreme gentleness, tears formed in the corner of her eyes.
Despite everything inside her warning her to keep her distance, she responded, tension leaving her as he slid his tongue over her lips. She did the same, their mouths gliding back and forth.
For a long while, they lay side by side, just kissing. She lost herself in the taste of him, in his ability to give back to her in this simple but oh-so-effective way.
Her sex pulsed, heavy with need, and her breasts grew tight with the need to be touched, yet he did nothing but explore her mouth with long, leisurely strokes of his tongue.
Even when she expected him to push further, when she gave him every indication she wanted more, he settled for seductive strokes of his tongue over her lips.
And later, when she said she needed to go home, he respected her wishes and walked her to her car, leaving her beyond disappointed he hadn’t pushed for her to stay.