Chapter 9: His Bed

He set me down in the middle of his bed and stood over me, breathing hard.

Rain streamed down the dark windows. The only light was the hall lamp behind him.

My sweater was gone, and my wet jeans were stuck to my legs.

"I said I'd take my time," Dane said. "I meant it."

"You said that to Colt."

"I said it to you."

He knelt on the mattress and peeled my jeans down my legs, one slow inch at a time.

He dropped them on the floor.

Then he stopped and just looked.

I had never been looked at like that.

"Dane."

"Hold still."

"I'm not good at holding still."

"I know," he said. "That's why I'm saying it."

He put his mouth on the inside of my knee.

I jerked.

He pinned my hip down with one hand and kissed his way up my thigh.

His beard was rough against my skin.

By the time he reached my underwear I was shaking.

He hooked a finger in the band and looked up at me.

"You made a rule," I said, breathless. "No touching the people in your care."

"I broke it in the truck." His eyes were gold. "I'm going to break it again."

"Don't you dare stop."

He stripped me bare.

His mouth found me, and I cried out.

He was slow at first, and then he wasn't.

His tongue was patient and sure.

He held my thighs apart with his big hands when I tried to close them.

"Look at me," he said against me.

I looked.

"There. Say my name."

"Dane."

"Louder."

"Dane!"

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