Suspect Lover. Stephanie Doyle

think about it—of not being held or touched or treated like a woman, this was sensory overload. His fingers pulled down the straps of her bra until the cups gave up their hold on her breasts and his hands were there instead. He pinched her hardening nipples while his mouth made a trail down her spine. One sharp tug and the bra was gone. Then his hands were on the front of her jeans while his lips traced soft kisses over her bare shoulder.

      She watched him undo the button and zipper, saw him sink his hands into her practical white panties. The sensation of watching and feeling his fingers touching her sent a bolt of heat through her belly. Then he bent to pull off the rest of her clothes. Was it her imagination or did he linger over the socks? His fingers pulled them off. First one, then the other. His hand settled on her calf and even that simple touch made her shudder.

      She could hear the rustle of material behind her and knew that he was taking off his clothes. Instinct demanded that she turn and help him. That she entice him with small touches and kisses like he’d done as he undressed her, but instead she stood frozen staring at the bed. Soon he’d be inside her and it would probably change her life.

      A hand gently grazed her ass as he stepped around her. He sat on the bed and moved to the center of it, stretching himself out. The moon, high on a clear night, provided more than enough illumination for her to see. He seemed bigger to her without his clothes. More substantial. His sex thrust up high and thick from a dark nest of hair between his legs. His thighs were slightly separated, urging her, it seemed, to step between them.

      “Caroline.” Dominic reached out his hand to her.

      Crawling—there was no other word for it—onto the bed and up his body, she settled her bottom gingerly on his belly, her arms pinned on either side of his head. His hands came up to play with her breasts again, his finger and thumb tugging on her nipple until her neck arched, then her back.

      “Do we have a condom?” Her words were muffled as one of his hands circled her body. A finger traced her spine, ran over her bottom, then up her stomach until he once again palmed her breast.

      “You can trust me. I’m safe.”

      She shook her head, as if to say that wasn’t what she meant. But he was pulling her head down toward him, his tongue playing with her lips until it pushed deep into her mouth.

      “This is your decision,” he muttered. He teased the corner of her lips making her want more than ever the deep impact of his kiss.

      “Mine,” she conceded. Her choice. Her life. Her decision.

      Her future.

      She found herself shifting backward, twisting her hips until she felt the broad head of his erection butting up against her curls. She could feel how wet she was, knew he could feel it, too, and wasn’t sure if she should be embarrassed by how quickly he’d brought her to this state.

      “You have to help me,” she said even as she reached down to bring him closer. She forgot how thrilling it was to hold a man’s sex in her hand. To feel it pulse. Soft skin over resolute hardness. It beckoned her to take more. His hand was on her hip, guiding her and she could feel him sinking into her one hard inch at a time. Her body resisted at first, but his insistence and her slickness were no match for any defense she might muster.

      Joining. Mating. The words were weak in comparison to how it felt to take him inside.

      Instinctively she moved on him as he thrust up slightly. His knuckle found its way between her legs, teasing that perfect spot that made her see light even though her eyes were closed.

      “More,” he muttered. “Take more.”

      Opening her eyes, she wasn’t sure what he meant. It felt as if she were already speared on him. But his eyes were closed and his jaw was tight. The muscles in his neck were corded as if he were in pain. It wasn’t what she wanted for him. Her hands rested on his smooth chest and she used them for leverage as she sat up and indeed felt him slide deeper. Then that persistent finger between her legs, so intent on pulling on her, stroking her, catapulted her into a climax before she knew she was that close.

      When the last tug of her muscles had subsided, he rolled her onto her back with gentle persistence. His face above hers, his mouth only a breath away. In the dark, the harsh lines of his cheeks and chin should have been frightening, but they weren’t.

      “Tell me if this is too much,” he muttered in her ear, as his body lowered completely over hers. She felt him push into her and knew that she’d barely taken half of his erection. For a moment she wanted to protest. Her nails dug into his shoulders as her body was stretched and filled beyond what she thought she could take. She felt him stop and instinctively knew what it cost him. Focusing on relaxing, she tilted her hips toward him, encouraging him.

      “It’s okay,” she muttered. “It’s okay.”

      “I don’t want to hurt you,” he growled.

      She could feel him pulling back. In retaliation she wrapped her legs around his hips. The action sent him deeper and this time beyond the pain she knew a fulfillment she’d never dreamed was possible.

      “You’re not hurting me.” At least not enough to make her give up the pleasure of it.

      His head dipped and he took her lips even as his body began to move more urgently. Each penetration was so deep. Before she could think about how one thrust felt there was another and another. It was too much. Too much heat. Too much power. Too much intensity. But she wouldn’t have stopped him for the world. It was like being in the center of a storm. There was danger. A sense of fear. But also the thrill of watching it happen, of feeling it explode around her. She embraced it, all of it and relished in her triumph over the coward because for now it was gone.

      For the second time she came and wondered if she might faint from the incredible rush.

      Hanging on to her senses, she felt his body surge. She heard his muttered growl against her neck and felt the wet hot seed from his body pumping inside her. Caroline didn’t realize you could feel that. Didn’t know it was possible.

      Slowly he eased away from her, rolling onto his back. She could still feel him between her legs and imagined she would continue to do so for hours. There was something entirely erotic about that. She rubbed her legs together and felt the wetness there.

      Harsh short breaths from both of them broke the silence until she couldn’t not say something.

      “I can’t believe we didn’t use anything,” she panted.

      He said nothing.

      She didn’t turn toward him, didn’t feel that she could. The intimacy they had just shared was suddenly gone. He wasn’t touching her. Wasn’t stroking her. She felt tears well up in her eyes and willed them away. This had been good. Amazing. Maybe he was nervous about the step they had just taken. Maybe he was as afraid as she was.

      “You said you wanted to be a father, but I didn’t realize you wanted it that quickly.”

      The bed shifted as he adjusted his weight toward her, but he still didn’t touch her.

      “I said I wanted a child. I have a legacy to offer. Something I’ve built. I want to give that to my child. What kind of father I will be, I don’t know. I want to be honest with you, Caroline.”

      “You have been so far. I think.”

      She turned her head and saw even through the darkness the stark white of his eyes. His hand reached out and settled on her stomach. A slow warmth built there and radiated throughout her limbs.

      Finally. A touch.

      “I don’t imagine that I would make a decent parent. Or husband, for that matter. My work, it is who I am, not just what I do. But I will provide for you. I will never let anyone hurt you or our baby. I will be as much a part of your lives as I can. That has to be enough.” He seemed to catch himself. “Is that enough?”

      Was it enough?

      Caroline glanced down at the hand that rested protectively