I smiled at him, beneath a waterfall of red, but that grin only nipped at my cheeks and never made it to my eyes.
“I can see right through you, Leigh. Those eyes have given you away from the start.”
As he stepped closer, my breath caught in the base of my throat. I didn’t want him to touch me, but I didn’t want him to NOT touch me, either.
“Let go. You can breath with me.”
His fingers rose and slid the stream of my hair away from my face until they slipped down my cheek and jaw. His voice fell to a whisper as he lifted his other hand so that he held me there.
“Look at me this time. And don’t run away.”
I lifted my eyes to to his, trying to keep myself still, but trembling with the instinct to go. It wasn’t fucking instinct, really. I’d programmed myself this way. I didn’t deserve anyone to be tender and graceful with me.
For a moment, I thought about trying to toughen up again. Scare him off, like I had when I first dyed my hair. He’d told me he loved it before, and I didn’t want to let him love any part of me. Or make him fight me again. Even though he said he never would.
I tried to bring thoughts to my lips, but there were none. No words for this moment. None from me, at least.
“I get it, babe. You want to fight instead? Kick the crap out of me so you can feel pity enough to kiss me again?”
I heard the laugh bubble up from my chest before I felt it. But I stared into his soft, brown eyes, willing him to step closer. I did want it. I did want him.
“You know I don’t want that.”
I nodded, or tried to. While forcing my entire body to remain motionless. I did want him.
“You’re not running.”
His breath fell across my lips. He moved so achingly slow, like he was sure I was a frightened doe, and would bolt at any moment.
When his lips touched me, I felt that rush of emotion that had scared me so much the first time. I reached up to hold onto him, the same way he held onto me. Both of us working to keep me there. I sighed as he pulled back, and he looked straight through me again.
“I need you to tell me, baby. Tell me what you want.”
I swallowed and slid my fingers back into his thick, wavy hair, trying to make my feet move closer to him, or maybe pull him closer to me.
“No, Leigh. Tell me. Open that big, beautiful mouth of yours and talk to me. You know at any other moment, you’d have a mouthful of words for me.”
He rolled his eyes, pulling further back and letting his hands fall to my shoulders. My heart sank.
“Please… Doc. Please put them back.”
The corner of his mouth tugged upward as he lifted his fingers to my face again. I sighed with relief at the contact. God, I really did want this.
I forced myself to close the gap between us while my cheeks burned with that stupid, fucking internal arguement.
The words hung in my mind, but I wasn’t sure I’d said them.
“Kiss me the way you wanted to that first night.”
His eyes bore through mine with their silent demands.
“No, Leigh. Tell me.”
“I’m here! Isn’t that enough?”
“No. Because you need to admit to yourself, as much as I need to hear it. It may have been fun, but I don’t want to have to fight you to fuck you.”
I smirked. But only for a moment. Because his expression was not that of a man who just wanted to fuck.
I swallowed again and pressed against him, pulling at the words in my head, trying to force them from my lips, but failing. Until his face began to harden with disappointment. And rejection.
Then they poured out of me like he’d turned on a faucet.
“I want you, Doc. I want you to kiss me. I want you to make love to me. I want you to love me…”
Every muscle in my body tensed as my eyes darted between his eyes and his lips. I wanted to run so badly that I could taste blood from where I’d bitten the inside of my lip to keep still. His eyes sparked with something unfamiliar, but his lips softened into a tiny smile before he crushed me with his kiss.
His tongue parted my lips and his hands slid into my hair, pulling me up to meet him before gliding down my body and under my ass, lifting me to wrap my legs around him.
My body was possessed, giving in and taking what it wanted. My hips ground against him, while my fingers slid into the collar of his polo to feel his skin. My lips caressed his while our tongues danced, sending shots of electricity through both of us until we needed breath more than the kiss.
He sat me on the table and tugged the buttons of my blouse apart. Hurried, but not frantic, when it finally opened completely, I pulled it off as he stepped back to look at me. I knew I was still scraped and bruised, and glanced down at my plain red bra, feeling so much more exposed than I ever had with any other man. But as his finger crooked under my chin, lifting my face back to his, I felt every muscle in my body relax, his words pooling into something that felt so, fucking right, deep inside of me.
“I know you did it to piss me off. But I really fucking love the red, baby. All of it. On you. It’s perfect.”