Ava Gray - Skin Tight

“I don’t want it to. Not tonight.”

He skimmed his hand down her throat to her shoulder, shaping the line of her arm. Pleasure sang in her nerve endings; it was different this time. Perhaps because he’d lost the sharp edge of desire, tenderness trickled in to fill the gaps. He caressed the swell of her hip, the bend of her knee, and Mia shifted, her arousal growing in tandem with his gentleness.

This man was such a study in contrasts. The way he’d taken her that first time, she would never have imagined he could touch her like this. Now he stroked the sweet curve of her inner thighs. Mia took the cue and parted for him, feeling her body grow damp with anticipation. Openmouthed, he nuzzled her shoulder, working his way down to her breast. He licked the tip in a slow circle, and she ached for more.

She laced her fingers in his hair, glorying in the fact that she could touch him. Without being told, she knew how rare this was for him. He didn’t let women do this. Mia imagined him thrusting into a series of bodies, taking release with precious little pleasure. Primitive denial nearly blinded her; she didn’t want him touching anyone else ever again. Which should have sent her scrambling from the bed.

Instead, she closed her eyes, giving herself over to him. His lips tugged at her taut nipple, grazing teeth nipped and nuzzled. With clever fingers, he brought her to the brink time and again, until she sobbed with the need for relief. Then he kissed her, lips warm and luscious. His tongue surged in her mouth, stealing her cries, when he finally let her come. The orgasm shook through her until she couldn’t get her breath. Afterward, she nestled into his side, boneless.

To her surprise, he gathered her close and buried his face in her neck. “I don’t have this. I never have this,” he whispered, as if he might be dreaming.

“There’s something I’d like very much.”

He tensed. “What?”

“To know your name,” she hastened to add. “I swear I won’t do anything with it. But it would mean a great deal to me to know who you are when I hold you like this.” Mia pressed a kiss against his jaw, hoping to soften him.

She didn’t think he’d tell her. Physical closeness set the boundary, and it didn’t include further intimacies. To hide her hurt, she laid her face against his shoulder and breathed him in.

And then, unbelievably, he said, “Søren.”

“Sirren?”

A shudder worked through him.

“Close enough.” He inhaled slowly. “Say it again?”

Bemused, Mia complied. “I’ve never heard that before. It’s Danish,” she guessed, remembering what he’d said about being born in Copenhagen.

He nodded. “Without my surname, you’ll discover nothing else. It’s safe enough.”

“I won’t even look,” she said, stung. “I promised.”

His body eased against her, reminding her she was lying naked with a man whose real name she’d only just learned. Still, it was progress. Not long ago she would’ve put money on never learning this much about him.

“I’m sorry. Force of habit.”

“Considering everyone an enemy?”

“Yes.” His unadorned answer made her sad.

“I’m not your adversary. Forget what I said before.”

The war had been waged inside her, and she’d made her decision. She wouldn’t break her promise to him for some petty revenge, not when she’d wanted him almost from the first moment she saw him. It strained credulity that she could be with him now, like this, his sleekness tousled from her hands, his gaze shimmering with warmth, like sunlight on ice. Søren smoothed a hand over her hip, and Mia gave a lazy smile, sliding her leg over the top of his.

“That means… a great deal to me. Understand that I can’t reciprocate much, but…” He paused, sweetly sheepish. “I find I want to know everything about you.”

“Really? Well, I grew up in Minnesota, a small town called Pine Grove. My parents weren’t well off and… they were always fighting. My mother met my father while she was traveling in Iran. She was a photojournalist. They fell in love. He came with her back to America, but she wouldn’t marry him. She was… a feminist.” Mia turned her face against his chest, knowing each word would feel like a kiss. “My father was… old world in many of his beliefs. It drove him crazy that she wouldn’t take his name.”

His fingers threaded through her hair, careful and tender. “I don’t imagine that ended well.”

She shook her head. “After years of fighting, my dad gave up and went back to Iran. My paternal grandfather calls me his son’s child of shame.” Mia didn’t like remembering, but folded in his protective embrace, those memories lost much of their sting. “I spent a summer in Iran when I was thirteen. My dad wanted me to understand my ethnic heritage. I’m sure he meant well.” Surely, he couldn’t have known how she’d be treated there.

“It changed you.”

Mia inhaled. She couldn’t speak of how she’d been made to feel. “Yes. I never took my freedoms for granted anymore.”

“No,” he said soberly. “I suppose you would not. Were you close to your mother?”

“No.” She tried not to sound bitter. “As it turns out, she wasn’t cut out for motherhood. Being tied to one place made her angry. She loved to travel, and each time she looked at me, she saw the anchor holding her in place.”

So she drank. But she wasn’t going to tell him that.

A long silence built. At first she thought she must be boring him, but when she eased back to gaze into his face, she saw a quiet storm building. “I have no time for those who don’t value their children,” he said tightly. “Nor compassion, either.”

Whoa, I hit a nerve. Mia filed that tidbit away for later scrutiny. Right now, she was enjoying his protective instinct. That response told her a great deal.

“I don’t talk to her much.” Not since she got out of rehab three years ago and came to give me a perfunctory apology, part of her steps. “She’s on the move constantly. Last I heard, she was in Kazakhstan, chasing a story.”

“Let me guess the rest. With your brilliant mind, you earned a scholarship and sent yourself to college with no help from anyone.”

Mia ducked her head. “Not quite. My dad sent me money for expenses, but I invested in stocks instead and took a part-time job in the university bookstore. Once I got out of school, those dividends gave me the capital I needed to go into business as a forensic accountant without first working for another firm.”

His expression pleased her to the point of absurdity. “You are… exceptional.”

“No,” she denied. And then: “Well, maybe a little.”

“Where did you go to college?”

“Carlow. It’s in Pittsburgh.”

“I was expecting one of the Ivy League schools.”

Mia shook her head. “In my opinion, they’re a bit overpriced.” She shifted, running her fingers down his chest. His intake of breath did wonders for her ego. “You said you can’t reciprocate much. Surely there’s something you can tell me.”

“My parents,” he said, after a moment’s thought. “They were fantastic. They taught me the importance of keeping your word and working hard.”

“What happened to them?”

His level look said he couldn’t-or wouldn’t-answer. Instead, he said wonderingly, “I didn’t plan this. I don’t think I could have planned for you.”

“Good to know I’m not predictable.”

“And the truly amazing part is, I want you again.”

Her lips twitched. “I noticed. I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“How remarkably discreet of you.”

“You know we still can’t-”

“I know. I’ll be prepared next time.”

Next time? Mia’s eyes widened as he kissed his way down her stomach. Oh, God, he was going to kill her. But she’d die smiling.