Dark of Night Read Free

and sweetly lacy with a tiny pink flower sewn between her perfect breasts.
    He could feel her hands at the waist of his jeans. She opened his belt buckle like a pro—okay, don't think that—unfastened the button, found the zipper pull and…
    Famine, disease, drought. Dave fought to focus, but it wasn't until he conjured up a picture of James Nash, with a white sheet being pulled over his head, that he knew for sure that he wasn't going to embarrass himself by coming in Sophia's ridiculously soft hands.
    Of course, now he had to fight not to cry, and he was certain, without a doubt, that bursting into tears would be far more embarrassing than ejaculating within three seconds of Sophia's touch. Although both were to be avoided, if possible.
    So he gently moved her hands to a less sensitive spot, as he lifted his head and admitted, “It's been a while, and I'm … afraid that …”
    She stepped back, stepped out of her pants while he did the same. She hesitated, though—even if only briefly. Anyone who didn't know her as well as he did might've missed it. But she
did
hesitate, glancing over her shoulder at the mirror behind her before unfastening her bra and slipping her panties down her smooth, perfect legs.
    The mirror behind her…
    The light was dim enough that he could barely see the scars from her captivity—the largest one being on the small of her back. But he knew— as she did—that they were there.
    And Dave also knew, with a seemingly brilliant stroke of insight, what to do, what to say to this gorgeous, naked woman standing there, so vulnerably, before him. “In truth,” he said, his voice raspy, hoarse to his own ears, as he pulled her close and touched her, skimming his hands across all thatgorgeous, gleaming skin, across her breasts, her stomach, her back, and yes, even her fading scars, “it has nothing to do with how long it's been and everything to do with you. I've always found you completely irresistible. Always.”
    She lifted her head to smile up at him, but her trepidation was still there, in her eyes.
    So he kissed her—kissed her and tugged her back with him, so that they fell, together, onto that bed. Deep in the recesses of his brain, he knew he should be careful not to be on top of her. He should loosen his grip so that she never felt restricted or overpowered. He should let her remain in control.
    But she clung to him, opening her legs to pull him closer, wrapping her arms and legs around him, her hand on his butt, pushing him even more tightly against her, her breath hot against his ear as she reached between them with her other hand. “Dave. I want …”
    Her fingers closed around him, leaving no doubt in his mind exactly what she wanted and when she wanted it—him, and right now. She shifted her hips and he felt her yield to him. She was soft and slick and tight around him, and as he slid into paradise he knew there was something he had yet to do or say, but when he opened his mouth, “God, I love you,” came blurting out.
    They were the exact same words that had gotten him here, and once again, it was the right thing to say. Sophia laughed, but there was a catch in her voice, and he lifted his head to look into her eyes as she held him there, tightly inside of her, as intimately joined as two people could possibly be.
    “Thank you,” she whispered. “For saying that.”
    “It's true.”
    Her eyes filled with tears, and she reached for him, pulling his head down and kissing him, moving against him, beneath him, as best she could with his weight on top of her.
    But the sight of those tears haunted him and he had to ask. “Are you sure you're—”
    “I'm good,” she said. “I'm great. I'm unbelievably … Oh, Dave, I need … More … Of you. … Please …”
    More of him. Okay.
    He moved with her then, carefully, slowly, and she seemed to like that—“Oh, yeah …”—so he didn't speed up. The friction was incredible, the sensation sheer bliss—as if he were being