Scandalous Mistress: Double Take / Captivate Me / My Double Life. Leslie Kelly

not yet.

      “Take that off,” he ordered, nodding toward her nightie.

      She didn’t refuse, didn’t tell him he forgot to say please. Lindsey was getting caught up in this. She was enjoying it.

      Crossing her arms over her breasts, already mostly revealed to his hungry gaze, she pushed the straps down, pulling her arms free, and letting the gown float into a puddle on her lap. Her breasts were works of art, round and full, but not too heavy. He could still taste those rosy nipples on his tongue.

      He watched as she pushed the gown down over her hips, then her thighs, until she could kick it out of the way. It fluttered to the floor near his feet, a wisp of a thing, simple but so very erotic when it was taken off.

      He stared, rubbing his hand on his jaw, noting the scratch of his five o’clock shadow. For a long moment, he looked at her, picking out all the places on her body where she’d soon feel that scratch. Those breasts, that throat, that stomach and the hollow beneath it, right above her pelvis.

      And oh, those legs and what lay between them.

      “The panties, too.”

      She licked her lips, apparently a little uncertain about stripping naked while he just stood there watching.

      “Do it.”

      Her eyes flared, but not in annoyance. She was excited as hell. It rolled off her in waves, electric and thrilling.

      Lindsey might not have understood she wanted this, but he had.

      Ever since he’d met her, he’d caught mentions and hints about how much she needed to maintain control. She’d made it clear she didn’t let down her guard, that she made rules and set boundaries. Her own best friend had tried to teach her how to accept real, genuine intimacy by giving her that book.

      All of which just told him one thing: she needed to be fucked by somebody who wasn’t scared to say no to her.

      Somebody who would not let her hide behind her quick humor or stop things from going beyond her predetermined acceptable point of intimacy. The decision had to be taken out of her hands so she would just experience this, rather than having to orchestrate every aspect of it.

      “Did you not hear me?” he said, his tone holding an edge, his eyes on that pretty triangle of silk between her thighs.

      Reaching for the elastic hem, she wriggled the underwear off. As she pushed the panties down her legs, she bent forward a little, her long red hair falling down onto her lap, covering the parts of her he most wanted to see. She plucked the lacy bit of nothing off and tossed it away to land with her nightgown, then looked up at him. That long hair still covered too much, including her breasts.

      “Push your hair back.”

      She lifted her hands, twined her fingers through the long, silky strands then moved them back over her shoulders, revealing those breasts again. Perfect.

      “Lie down.”

      Moving slowly, she did, reclining on the pile of cushions. Twisting her hair, she let it fall across the pillows in a vivid red splash against the pillowcase. One hand remained on the bed, relaxed and vulnerable, the other rested on her flat stomach.

      His attention, however, was drawn a little bit lower.

      He ground his teeth, clenching his jaw to hold himself together. That tuft of red curls at the apex of her thighs was small and angled, a little arrow pointing down toward the lips of her sex, concealed between her coyly closed legs.

      “Let me see all of you.”

      This time, she didn’t hesitate. She was captured by the excitement. Bending one knee, she slid her foot up, letting her legs fall open. He groaned at the sight of that erotically smooth flesh between them; the curls were only at the very top, just for decoration.

      Such pretty decoration.

      But damn, was it pretty without them.

      He’d never been with a woman who waxed quite so thoroughly. The thought of burying his mouth in her, licking into those juicy crevices, finding her hard little clit and working it with his tongue until she screamed, made his cock ache.

      “You are beautiful,” he said.

      “Thank you,” she murmured, looking pleased by the compliment. It certainly couldn’t have been the first time she’d heard it—the woman was drop-dead gorgeous. Then again, considering he suspected she never let any guy really glimpse the real her, maybe she didn’t hear it all that often, beyond the superficial pickup lines.

      “Beautiful,” he repeated, because it needed to be said twice.

      He reached for his belt, unfastened it and pulled it out quickly. The leather cracked as it left the loops of his pants. Lindsey stiffened, her hands fisting, and he knew what thought had flashed across that brilliant mind.

      He hated that her thoughts had instinctively gone to such a place. Had someone abused her? Was that why she found it so impossible to give herself over and trust someone completely?

      “I’d never hurt you,” he assured her, sure she’d already accepted that, deep down, but might need to hear it anyway.

      She nodded, swallowing visibly. He noted the reaction, more sure of his suspicion. Somewhere along the way, someone had hurt her, maybe not physically, but emotionally she’d been conditioned to expect the worst.

      The very idea infuriated him, but he definitely didn’t want her to sense anger in him and tense up. So he forced it away and gave her a sexy, self-assured smile as he reached for the waistband of his pants.

      The tension left her as she watched him, and she almost cooed as he unbuttoned, then unzipped his khakis. He had to pull the material away to get the zipper down over his rigid cock. He’d never been this hard; the brush of his own fingers through the cotton of his shorts made him flinch.

      He didn’t drop the pants, letting them hang low on his hips. He did reach for the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, though, pulling them down a little. Never tearing his eyes off her, he grabbed his dick, big and throbbing, letting her see how much he wanted her. Stroking himself lazily, he acknowledged that her hands would be so much better, but he wasn’t yet ready to let her do anything but lie there and take what he planned to give her.

      She devoured him with her stare, so approving— wanting—and his own hunger dug into him even more brutally. It clawed at him, made him almost desperate to rip off his clothes and just take her until neither of them could think, much less move.

      But that wasn’t how this was going to go down.

      Hmm. Speaking of which...

      He sat on the corner of the bed, touching her bare foot, trailing his fingers up her long leg. Lindsey’s eyes fell closed and she arched her back. Her skin was incredibly soft against his hand, and it got even softer the higher he went. Her thighs were exquisite.

      As he reached the top of one and moved his hand inward, brushing his fingertips through that tiny landing patch of curls, she trembled. He knew what she wanted, what she craved. He could see the pearly tip of her clit, and the glisten of arousal on her sex—she was dying for him to make the touch ever so much more intimate.

      She didn’t say a word, didn’t make a single demand, didn’t even thrust up toward his hand. She was relaxed now; she trusted him, assured he wouldn’t leave her high and dry. Willing to let him set the pace.

      He would not disappoint her.

      He bent to press his mouth on the hollow just inside her hip, tracing his tongue across the skin, tasting a faint tinge of salt. Sweat. He was making her hot. Maybe next time, he’d use an ice cube to cool her off.

      Still driving her mad with those soft strokes in the hollow just above her sex, he began to kiss his way up her body. He nibbled at her hip bone, licked the indentation of her waist, detouring over to dip his tongue into her belly button. She quivered beneath him, and when he glanced