Scratch that. I would have preferred his seeing me naked rather than everything else he had to witness. I don’t know whether to feel grateful that he took such good care of me and didn’t take advantage or a little miffed. It would have been nice to know he at least wanted to look. Liquid courage failed me in more ways than one.
Dragging myself out of bed, I head to Dallas’s bathroom and take the hottest shower I can, scrubbing off last night’s makeup and drunken humiliation. When I get out, I see that Dallas left another one of his T-shirts and a pair of his boxers on the bed for me to wear. I glance over at my dress in the corner and wonder if I should just slip that back on and leave so I don’t have to face him again.
The smell of bacon and eggs permeates the room and my stomach growls. It would be rude to just leave now when he’s making me breakfast. And I guess I should be happy he didn’t take advantage of me in my inebriated state last night.
Quickly slipping on the shirt and boxers before I change my mind, I run my fingers through my damp hair and make my way out into the kitchen. I pause in the doorway, watching the way the muscles in Dallas’s back move as he works around the kitchen, stirring food and pulling plates out of the cabinet.
It takes everything in me not to walk up behind him and run my hands up his naked back to feel those muscles under my fingers.
I clear my throat so I don’t startle him. He turns around with a spatula in his hand and pauses as he looks at me. I nervously pull at the hem of his shirt. It’s huge on me, but I’m still conscious of the fact that I’m not wearing a bra. I didn’t need one with the dress I wore to the wedding.
“You look good in my clothes,” he says softly as he sets the spatula down on the counter and walks over to me.
“Look, I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have come over here like that. I never drink, especially not that much.”
Dallas reaches up and runs his fingers through my hair.
“What do you want, Lorelei?” he asks softly.
I swallow and stare up at him. He’s looking at me imploringly, like he wants me to say something that will change everything. To admit what I’m feeling in the bright light of day without the haze of alcohol clouding my brain and my heart. I suddenly want more than anything to just let go; throw caution to the wind and not worry about the consequences. With a deep breath, I take the plunge.
“You. I just want you.”
A smile spreads across his face and he shrugs. “You already have me. If you want more, just take it.”
Paige was right. He wants me to make the next move. Moving quickly before I lose my nerve, I reach down and grab the hem of his shirt I’m wearing, pulling it up and off my body. I toss it onto the kitchen floor and watch Dallas’s eyes darken with need as he stares at me. Sliding my fingers into the waistband of his boxers, I push them down my legs and step out of them.
“Fuck, you are so beautiful,” he groans.
I take a step toward him and run my hands up his chest. He sucks in a breath and closes his eyes. “Does this mean you don’t want breakfast first?”
I slide one hand down the front of him and inch my fingers into the waistband of his jeans. I tug on them roughly and haul him up against me.
“Fuck breakfast,” I tell him with a smile.
His lips are on mine immediately. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and his hands go to my ass, pulling me up off of the floor so I can wrap my legs around his hips. As his tongue swirls around mine, he walks me backward and then sets me down on top of the kitchen table.
I reach between us and unsnap his jeans, helping him slide them and his boxers down his hips. While he’s busy taking them the rest of the way off, my hand wraps around his hard length and I slowly slide my hand from base to tip, over and over.
He moans roughly into my mouth as he deepens the kiss. I clutch tightly onto handfuls of his hair as his palms skim up the inside of my thighs. My legs tighten around his hips and I continue working him over with my hand. My movements pause when I feel the tips of his fingers against my center. Pulling my mouth away from his, I moan softly when he slides his fingers through my wetness.
“Jesus, you always feel amazing,” he mutters, resting his forehead against mine.
I move my hand away from him and grab on to his shoulder for support. He slides one hand around to cup my ass and pull me closer to the edge of the table and at the same time, he plunges two fingers inside of me. I let out a gasp and he swallows my cries with his mouth. He touches me the same way he’s always kissed me—a delicious blend of rough and gentle. He knows exactly how and where to touch me and it’s like he instinctively knows what I’ve been missing all my adult life. I want to be taken. I want the mixture of pain and pleasure.
He slides his thumb back and forth over my clit as his fingers move inside me. I thrust my hips against his hand as he pushes me closer and closer to the edge. His mouth leaves mine and he makes a trail of kisses across my cheek and to the side of my neck. Just like the night before, the tip of his tongue traces a circle right behind my ear. His fingers move harder and faster against me and I cling tightly to him as my orgasm rushes through me.
I whimper and moan through my release, clutching tightly to Dallas as he pulls every bit of pleasure out of my body.
I’m not ready for this feeling to be over. I want more. I need more. I need all of him right now.
Grabbing onto his hips, I pull him closer to me.
“I need you; I need you,” I chant against his lips.