“Thinking deep thoughts, huh, mama?” His voice is a sleepy, lazy rumble.
“Mmm.”
I hadn’t even noticed he was awake.
His hands are still on my backside, and I’m tensed. He nuzzles the top of my head. “Hey.”
“What?” I whisper.
He squeezes my ass gently, and then sets about really exploring it. Paying attention to it. Caressing the curves of each globe, kneading, dimpling with his fingertips. Squeezing as if testing the heft. Cupping, as if merely appreciating. Tracing the seam with a gentle finger.
“Chance…” I breathe.
“Quiet,” he murmurs.
I blink. He just…did he just tell me to be quiet? I lift my head off his chest and meet his eyes—and I see the merry glint there, and realize he knows exactly how I’d react to being told to be quiet.
“Chance,” I say, my tone containing a sharp note of warning.
His thumb touches my lips, this time to cover, pressing. “I saidquiet, mama. I got a beautiful piece of you in my hands, and I’m enjoying it. Been admiring this,” he gives one cheek a soft tap of his palm—not even a spank, just a gentle tap, “since the first time I saw you. Finally got my hands on it, and I’m damn well gonna take my time with it.”
I arch my eyebrow at him. “Is that so?”
He nods, smiles at me like it ain’t no thing, and then…the gall of the man…he closes his eyes, settles his head back into the pillows, and resumes his tactile exploration of my ass. A huge, pleased, relaxed, appreciative smile is fixed on his face.
And I…let him.
I lie on top of him and I feel his hands scouring every inch of my butt, down to where it folds into my thighs, up to the dimples above at the very base of my back. Over, around, under. Touching. Squeezing. Caressing. Just…playing with and enjoying my butt.
Weirdly, it feels like…it’s not a sexual thing. He’s not trying to start something. He’s not making a move. He’s just…enjoying me.
And I like it.
He appreciates my body, clearly, and he’s showing me. And, I understand, he’s doing so without exactly breaking the vow he made to me.
I might as well have some enjoyment, too. I examine his face. Memorize the angles and planes. The curve of his nose. The heavy bridge. His hard jaw beneath the thick black beard. The column of his throat. Looking leads to touching—he doesn’t seem surprised when my fingers graze his cheekbones, his eyebrows, his jaw. He opens his eyes, meets mine with that smile on his face, and then closes them again. Continues his touching, and allows me mine. It’s just tracing, feeling. Learning the feel of him.
After a while, his eyes open. Find mine. “You’re beautiful, Nik.”
I swallow, eyes inexplicably burningagain. “Been a long, long time since I felt that way.”
His thumb grazes my cheekbone just below my eyelid. “You are. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”
“I’m not gonna fuck you in my grandmother’s guest bedroom, Chance,” I say, my tone wry.
He snorts. “Is that all you ever think about, woman?” He shakes his head, his eyes scolding and teasing. “It ain’t about that.”
“You’ve got your hands all over my ass,” I point out.
“You understood exactly how that was, and don’t bullshit me that you don’t.”
I sigh and rest my forehead on his chin. “Yeah.”
His lips kiss. “You think you need to be afraid of me, Annika?” His tone is tender. “Ever? In any way?”
I let out a breath. “No, Chance.”
“You know—yougottaknow that I’ll take care of you. You don’t have to be afraid.”
