Vivian Arend - High Risk

How could a woman who was so strong be so willing to offer it all up? Marcus took control of himself and vowed he’d do whatever it took. Whatever it cost.

Because it was going to cost him—that much he knew for sure.

He glanced the length of her body. Assessing, weighing. When he met her gaze again, he spoke softly. “Undo your hair.”

Becki eased off the elastic she’d used to pull her hair back into a functional ponytail. She slipped the band into her pocket, then lifted her hands again, smoothing her fingers through the strands and fluffing it over her shoulders. The long tresses rested over her shoulders, slightly tousled, a lock falling over her forehead and into her eyes.

“Your top. Take it off. Slowly.”

Her laughter rippled across the room. “I’m not a very good dancer, Marcus. If you want me to swing my hips and give you a show, you’re going to be sorely disappointed.”

“Oh, I doubt that very much,” he said. “No dancing required. Undo your buttons, sweet Becki. One at a time. That’s it.” He followed her fingers with his gaze as she slipped the tiny pearl-white circles through the slits. “Every one you open reveals a little more of your skin. All the candlelight in the room reflects off you and makes it glow. I can see the edges of your bra cups now. Your breasts. It’s like a present being unwrapped before me.”

She was silent as she finished the final buttons, the front of her shirt gaping open so the light shone on her solid belly.

Her breathing wasn’t as even as it had been a few moments before.

Becki shrugged her shoulders and the gap widened. When the fabric finally came loose she let it fall to the floor at her feet.

Marcus stared hungrily at her, sure that what was in his gut showed on his face. Hoping it did. This was more than temporary desire, this was a need for her that was going to last his entire life.

“You’re beautiful. So strong, so powerful.” Becki undid the button on her pants as she smiled in response to his comment. He jerked her to a stop with a single word. “Wait.”

One brow rose. “I assumed you wanted me naked.”

“Don’t assume.” He stood and stepped in close enough that she could touch him without leaving her space on the floor. “My turn. Take off my shirt.”

She’d undressed him before, days earlier. That time she’d been blindfolded and he’d watched her fingers tremble as she moved. As she touched.

Now she stroked him with her gaze as well as her touch, and he hadn’t been prepared for how powerful the effect would be. Becki undid his belt, popped his button. Lowered the top notches of his zipper. That freed room for her to slip her hands under his T-shirt, fingertips cool against his heated skin. She stared into his eyes as she passed over his chest, thumbs skimming his nipples. When she pressed closer so she could reach behind him he took a deep breath, the seductive scent of her body lotion teasing his senses.

This playtime might be about what she needed, but damn if he wasn’t going to enjoy it as well.

It was like being drugged. The edge blurred between reality and fantasy, and Becki embraced the sensation fully, planning to savour every second.

She caught hold of the bottom of his shirt in the back and tugged it upward. “Lean over,” she ordered, and he went willingly, bending and extending his arms over his head so she could drag the fabric all the way off.

Then she wasn’t sure where to look as he straightened. He’d mentioned the candlelight, and wow—he wasn’t kidding how the flickering glow made a huge impact on her senses. It was better than examining Greek statues in a museum. Every muscle was showcased in bold relief. The firm cuts defining his chest; the rigid lines that separated his lower abdomen into neatly packaged squares.

Becki peeked upward to discover that his eyes were still fixated on hers. Something about his complete attention made her cheeks flush with heat even as a deep need throbbed inside. Between her legs she grew wet, longing for more than glances and slow seduction.

She lifted his shirt, watching to see if he’d change his focus. The shirt slipped from her fingers to land on top of her abandoned clothes.

His gaze never flickered off her face, and the delicious sense of being totally enveloped by him increased. Becki eased back on her heels and allowed her hands to fall by her sides. Whatever was happening tonight, she would embrace it fully. If he wanted her to move, she’d assume he’d tell her so.

Marcus cupped her chin in his fingers and nodded. “Yes. Oh, yes, now you have it. Take off your pants, and when you’re done I’ll tell you what to do next.”

His declaration stroked her like a physical brush. She wanted to rush, to give in to the urgency to strip everything off and fall to the next task, but his voice beguiled her. Eased her. She slipped open the button and the zipper on her slacks and pushed them off her hips. They bunched around her ankles, and she was surprised when he held out his arm to her. She clutched his elbow tightly and, instead of bending to free herself, stepped forward out of the material.

The move brought them skin to skin, the thin fabric of her bra the only barrier between them.

“My jeans now, and everything else. Strip me, sweet Becki.”

His endearment made a shiver race up her spine. “I love how you say my name. Like I’m delicious, and you can’t get enough of me.”

She put her hands to his zipper and finished the task of lowering it. The clicking of the teeth separating echoed loudly in the hushed room. Smoothing her hands over his hips, pushing the material down, she knelt, keeping in contact with his body at all times. It would have been a moment’s work to remove his socks along with the jeans, but she hesitated. Drew out the motion. Let him balance on one foot then the other with her shoulder as an anchor as she removed every stitch of clothing from him.

She deliberately stayed on her knees as she tugged his briefs off, his erection snapping up between them as soon as she’d freed it from the confines of the fabric. The hard length rose from the dark curls at his groin, and she wanted to touch, to taste, but first, she waited.

The heat from the airtight stove draped around her like a blanket, the soft rug cushioning her from the hardwood floorboards. She rested on her heels and stared at his naked magnificence.

Waiting.

Marcus hadn’t once looked away. Every time she’d lowered her gaze to concentrate on her task, she’d returned to his face and discovered him watching. Tenderness in his expression. Hunger.

His call. His command. Tonight was his game, and she was eager to play it. All worries, concerns, dread had vanished to be replaced with nothing but rising passion and full concentration on this man.

“Touch me.” The words rasped out, barely audible. “Touch me, everywhere. At your pleasure. How you want. No demands, no agenda.”

His order wasn’t what she’d expected. She sat dumbfounded for a moment, recalibrating her brain.

He smiled, that corner teasing upward. The familiar expression gave her something to cling to as she switched gears. He shifted slightly on his feet, muscles flexing as he moved, and Becki stared mesmerized.

Well, now. Anything she wanted—his demand might not be expected, but wasn’t it exactly what she’d been wanting?

She got to one knee, moving upright to rest her palms against the outside of his thighs. She explored, stroked. Brushed the wiry hair on his solid thighs and skimmed past his hips. Moved into position to plant a kiss on that band of muscle that wrapped along the sides of his torso—the Adonis line. A perfect place to press her lips and tease with her tongue. Small circles over his skin, breathing deeply to take in the scent of him—masculine, addictive.

She moved around his cock. The neglect not intended to torment him, but because he’d said to touch him everywhere. If she gave in already to her desire to adore his cock, she’d stop without tending to everything else she wanted to enjoy. His chest beckoned, and she rose higher to stroke and smooth the firm skin, his dusting of hair tickling her palms.

Becki gazed into his face, her hands cupping his cheeks briefly before threading her fingers through his hair. He smiled but didn’t speak.

“I like this game,” she whispered.

His eyes flashed, but he stayed in one spot, allowing her control. She strolled behind him, impatient for more muscles to caress, his firm butt cheeks to admire with her fingertips. She was surprised her thorough examination wasn’t driving him crazy as she worked him over, reading every inch like Braille.

No agenda—that was what he’d said—but suddenly there was one.

She wanted to give to him. Needed to share what she was feeling with him. It took a split second to peel off her panties and bra and toss them behind her. She stepped against his body, sighing as the warmth of his back connected with her torso. Her breasts pressed tight to him, she eased her fingers around his waist, stroking that wonderful band of muscle again, this time from behind.

When she curled her finger over his erection it was the first time since she’d begun she felt a reaction. Only because they were so close together did she know that her touch caused him to take a deep shaky breath.

She fisted him, pumping slowly, moving with caution. Cupping her hand over the head to find the moisture gathered there and spread it on her palm. His seed acted as a lubricant, but it wasn’t enough. She licked her fingers, saliva coating her in exchange for the burst of his taste that came as her tongue made contact with his seed.