Part 32 (1/2)
She rested her head on his shoulder. ”I had no idea.”
He hadn't, either.
Because he'd never spent this much time with a woman, he hadn't known what it was like to be constantly intrigued by someone so eager. Not just any woman, but a submissive one.
He held her for a bit. While he'd always enjoyed giving aftercare, until her, it hadn't felt so essential.
He removed her silken bond, and she put her hands on either side of his face. ”How are your nipples?” he asked.
”Sore.” She looked at him, and there was a wry twist to her lips. ”That was mean.”
”If they had been a different type of clamp, maybe,” he replied. ”Those are lightweight, and they came off easily.”
”In your opinion,” she countered.
”Made you climax.”
She sought a response, wrinkling her nose. ”There is that.”
He juggled her off his lap and put his hands on her waist to support her until she found her footing.
The doorbell rang from the lobby.
”Pizza,” a voice said when he answered.
”That was fast.”
Lara scooped up her clothes and scampered toward the bedroom while he quickly disposed of the condom and yanked his pants on then buzzed the guy up.
When she returned, he inhaled the faint scent of magnolias, and her hair was piled on top of her head. Her skin was slightly damp and she had on one of his long-sleeved s.h.i.+rts. She'd rolled up the sleeves and secured the cuffs above her elbows. The top b.u.t.ton was open, and she'd skipped the bottom two, as well.
Since the material didn't appear to be starched, he guessed she'd grabbed the s.h.i.+rt from the dry-cleaning bag. ”You could have chosen an unworn one,” he said.
”This one smelled like you.”
Everything in his body became slow-moving. He looked at her a second time. ”You're not wearing any undergarments.”
”No, Sir. I'm not.”
G.o.d help him.
He deliberately focused on dinner. Anything other than the sensual daze she'd plunged him into.
When he'd insisted she move in with him, he hadn't thought through everything that would be involved. He'd figured out how to share the closet and the bathroom and mentally sorted through the logistics of sharing an office. But he hadn't considered the small, intimate moments such as sharing a pot of coffee, a fine merlot, or deciding what to eat for dinner. He'd never imagined she'd put on his clothes, or that she'd look so f.u.c.king hot when she did.
He had the sensation that he was in emotional quicksand, and he'd walked in willingly.
”Where are the plates?” she asked.
When he didn't respond right away, she drew her eyebrows together. ”What? Seeing me half-naked is bothering you?” she asked, voice light with teasing.
”I may put you in a snowsuit,” he said.
”But then you won't see my nipples, all hard from the scratchiness of your s.h.i.+rt.”
”Some Doms like to put electrical tape on their sub's nipples.”
She gasped.
”Don't push me, little Lara. I will find a way to avoid temptation.” Or maybe he'd skip that and just keep her tied up and f.u.c.ked all day, every day. The second thought appealed to him most of all.
”Looks yummy,” she said, flipping open the lid of the pizza box. ”You were in charge of the plates,” she reminded him.
”Plates,” he repeated, and she laughed.
He shook his head to clear his brain circuits and took down plates from a cabinet. Then he pulled a shaker of Parmesan cheese from the refrigerator and put it on the counter.
She scooped out a slice of the pizza for him then selected one for herself.
”Cheese?” he offered.
”No, thanks.” The box had several packets of crushed red pepper tucked inside. She picked up one, ripped it open, then she covered her entire slice with the spicy stuff.
”I wouldn't be able to eat for a week if I did that.”
”They're delicious. Lots of nutrients.”
”Sure.”
”No. Really. They have vitamin A”-she tipped her head to the side-”and anti-inflammatory properties.” Not waiting until they moved from the kitchen counter, she took a big bite, and her eyes instantly watered. ”That one was hot.” She started to cough.
”CPR is not on the menu,” he cautioned.
”How about mouth-to-mouth?”
”That could be.”
She looked at the pizza then back at him. That made her laugh, and the combination of that with her coughing made him hurry to fetch her a small gla.s.s of milk.
”Drink.”
She downed it in two gulps, and the coughing stopped.
”Your milk mustache is attractive.”
She ripped off a square from the paper towel roll and immediately pressed it to her lips. After she pulled it back, she looked at it then glared at him. ”There was no milk mustache.”
”No. There wasn't. But that look on your face was priceless.”
She wadded the paper towel and threw it at him.