Ava Gray - Skin Tight

His eyes were avid as she stripped. It was a silent show, his motions mirroring hers. Mia found the slow revelation of his bare chest almost painfully erotic. His muscles were lean and compact, giving his naked body a powerful elegance. She ate him with her eyes, savoring his obvious pleasure. The man liked being looked at more than anyone she’d ever been with, but then, who could blame him?

By the time they climbed beneath the covers, he had an erection. She wondered if she was supposed to pretend she hadn’t noticed. Smiling, Mia lay down on her side and turned over, facing the window. She wouldn’t make it easy for him this time; he needed to suffer for being careless with her emotions-and him being rusty was no excuse.

The covers rustled as he settled. The mournful music shifted to an upbeat tune; she could envision people line-dancing to this in cowboy boots and tight jeans. Deliberately, she exhaled as if getting ready to fall asleep.

“Mia?”

“Hm?”

“Are you angry?” God, he sounded so adorably confused.

“Why?”

“Because you’re over there.”

“Where should I be?”

“Here.” With that, he drew her against him.

She didn’t roll over, which left them spooning. Despite his bewilderment, his erection hadn’t gone down, and she wiggled back. “Better?”

Søren groaned. “God, nothing in the world makes any sense but you.”

Restraining a shiver of pleasure at the heat near her ear, she closed her eyes. “Is that supposed to be dirty talk to get me in the mood?”

He choked out a laugh. “Hardly. Woman, you’ve got me so I don’t know whether I’m coming or going.”

“If you were coming, you’d know.” Mia shifted her hips.

“Mmm. Do that again, and we’ll see.” His right hand wandered down her belly, teasing over her abdomen.

She did, tilting so that his cock slid between her thighs. He hissed when his bare skin met hers, nudging toward her core. Then she tightened her legs to hold him still.

“That, you mean?”

Søren swept aside her hair, biting at her neck. “Tease.” “Because I made you want it raw?”

He shuddered. “Can’t.”

“I bet you could.” She loosened her thighs enough that he could move.

He did. Back, and then forward, a slow slide between her slick lips. “Christ, Mia. I want to be inside you.”

Conscience got the best of her then. She didn’t want to tease him into doing something that would make him hate her-and himself-once it was done. Rolling to face him, she curved a thigh over his.

“Better?”

He exhaled shakily. “Somewhat. You destroy my higher brain functions.”

“Thank God you’re making all our plans,” she said dryly.

Søren propped himself up on one elbow and regarded her with a sort of sweet incredulity. He brushed a fingertip down her cheek, staring into her eyes. “I could do this all night. Nothing else. Just this.”

“Then you’ll probably notice my left eye is a little higher than my right.”

“Did you verify your findings with a ruler and a level?”

“Maybe I just made it up.”

“You maddening woman.” He pulled her to him and buried his face in her hair. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For not tempting me more than I could bear.” There was devastation in his voice.

She understood. Sex was a life-affirming act, one that carried within it the potential for creation-and he feared nothing more. How could he bear the idea of more loss when he’d already lost everything? Mia wished she didn’t understand so well.

Oh God, how she loved him. The feeling hummed like a live wire, and Mia wrapped her arms around him, stroking his back while she comforted him through a silent grief so deep there were no words to assuage it.

He’s going to break my heart. The truth sounded in her head like a bell, but she couldn’t have left him if her life depended on it.

Lust and sorrow shared their bed like phantoms; she could not touch the latter, but she could sate the former. Her gaze on his, she reached between their bodies and curled her fingers around his rigid length. He sucked in a harsh, shallow breath, but he didn’t move. Mia took that to mean he wanted it; he trusted her to touch him and give pleasure.

There was more intimacy in this moment than she could readily process. Søren lay back as she squeezed, feeling her own juices on his skin. A moan escaped him the first time she pulled upward. He was sleek and hard in her fist; a frisson of shared pleasure tingled between her thighs.

“Tell me if I’m doing this right,” she murmured.

“The fact that you’re doing it makes it right.”

But then he covered her hand with his and showed her how he liked it, guiding her in terms of pressure and rhythm. For the first time, she glimpsed the pure vulnerability in his arousal. In offering her free rein over his body, Søren offered her the most beautiful gift: his trust.

His breathing roughened, but his eyes never closed, as if he couldn’t bear to lose sight of her even for a moment. Bringing his knees up, he thrust into her loose fist, his movements quick and shallow. Orgasm overtook him, and Mia gloried in his pleasure.

Still breathless, he shoved her onto her back and hooked two fingers inside her. With his other hand, he stroked her clit. Tremors still rocked through him, and his eyes shone silver in the dark. She arched and whispered his name as she came.

When she awoke in the morning, he was gone.

“This is becoming an unpleasant habit,” she muttered.

To her delight, he had left her more honey and oat porridge and a pot of camp coffee. Before the sojourn here, she’d never seen a tin percolator like the one he used on the woodstove. Mia had to admit the coffee was good and strong, just the way she liked it. With a little sweetener and powdered milk, she could almost say she had all the comforts of home.

If said home were in the middle of a forest.

In the predawn light, the trees loomed enormous outside the window. She could barely catch a glimpse of sky through the pine needles. Whatever he was doing, it was doubtless important; he took her safety seriously. She just wished he knew he could count on her.

The minute he walked in the door, she would tell him.

“I’m not a victim,” she said, practicing aloud. “I will not prove a liability.”

Even if you once left me tied to a chair.

She suspected that bit of shared history had given him a skewed impression of her level of vulnerability. If she hadn’t trusted him, she would never have gotten into his car. And yes, that had been a mistake, but she wouldn’t go quietly if it were anyone else.

With a faint sigh, she ate the porridge. But that wasn’t quite enough. She wanted something more. Maybe she could toast bread on a skillet? Though she didn’t know how to light the oven, it was still warm. How hard could it be?

Thus occupied in the kitchen, she didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary until it was too late.

“Mia!”

The answering silence filled Søren with foreboding.

He’d gone to check the traps and make sure everything looked all right. None of the snares had been tripped, so he reckoned they were safe enough. Then he’d paused to see if any of his feelers had borne fruit. One of them had, in fact, and he’d called out to her because he now had a game plan. Her lack of response couldn’t be good.

Rounding the cabin at a run, he found his worst fears confirmed. The window was smashed and the door stood wide open. Based on the scattered bread and broken jam jar on the floor, it looked as though someone had come upon her while she was making something extra for breakfast.

Ice trickled in to replace the fear. Søren stepped inside to take a look around. The radio was smashed, along with a kerosene lamp. Whoever had her, Mia hadn’t gone quietly. A knife that didn’t belong to him had been stabbed into the table, holding a note in place.