He grabs my wrist, halting my exploration, and my mind, my heart, my entire body protests. I'm so frustrated tears sting my eyes. Why did he stop me? Why does he always stop me?

He grins again and bites down gently on my bottom lip. He pulls away slowly, the rough edges of his teeth skimming across my wet, swollen flesh. The feeling resonates somewhere deeper. Wetter.

"Hi," he whispers, the first word spoken by either of us since he opened the door. A slow, satisfied grin spreads across his face. He dips down to kiss me again, a soft peck this time, before he bends down to grab my bag.

"How was your drive?"

How was my drive? I stood him up. I showed up at his door in the middle of the night five hours later. We just did that, whatever that was against the door, and he's asking me about my drive?

My body is still humming from his welcome, and I'm frustrated he seems so cool and confident. Unaffected. He reaches up and gently pulls my bottom lip from under my teeth. His brow is furrowed when he looks down on me.

"Blaise?" he asks. His face falls, "Blaise, what's wrong?" His hand moves to the side of my face and he smooths the crease between my eyes with his thumb. I realize I must be scowling.

"That was just....intense. I feel like my entire... everything... is in pieces and you're standing there, just," I wave my hand, gesturing a little too wildly up and down his body, "just, totally fine."

"I'm not fine. Not even close. I have imagined this scenario in my head more times than I should probably admit. Had this whole slow seduction planned. But now I just want to lock that door and spend the next forty-eight hours ravaging you."

Yes. Please.

"Okay," I eagerly acquiesce. He laughs, a warm, deep rumble deep in his chest. He leans against the back of the couch and leisurely crosses one leg over the other. His eyes slowly rake down my body and back up again. His smile falters and he looks at the ground. The atmosphere in the room seems to shift. The air feels thicker and heavier. I hope I'm wrong. I'm desperate to maintain the light, sexy vibe from moments before, but when he reaches up and rubs the back of his neck, I know I'm in trouble.

"When you didn't show, I just assumed..." he shakes his head.  "How did you?" He releases his neck and his hands rest on his narrow hips. "What are you doing here, Blaise?"

I don't want to talk about it. I just want to be here, back in his arms, and forget the last six hours.

"I thought it was obvious."

He chuckles briefly again. "Well, Yes. Kind of. I just mean, what happened?"

I stare down at the floor. "If there was any way I could have been there, I would. I got held up and it was completely out of my control and I am so sorry. But I'm here now." I raise my eyes to him, pleading.

He stares at me through narrowed eyes. "I'm trying to understand. It was your birthday party, I get it -"

"No," I interrupt him. "It wasn't that at all. I will tell you about everything, I promise. But please, I really don't want to talk about that now."

He watches me for several long, tense seconds. "Okay," he says simply, nodding his head. "Let's get you settled."

He reaches out for my hand and I place my palm in his. He laces our fingers together and leads me through the small, open living area. I look down at our hands. It's such a casual but intimate gesture. I like it.

"Let me give you the grand tour." He reaches down and turns on a small lamp. The entire room is aglow with a warm golden light. "This is the living room, dining room and kitchen." He swings his arm around in a wide arch.

I look up and stifle a gasp. The tiny a-frame cabin is small and humble, but beautiful, all one big room anchored by a large stone fireplace. The exterior was painted bright red, but the walls are warm, wood logs and the fixtures are dark iron, heavy and masculine. It's surprisingly clean and elegant for a rustic cabin in the middle of the woods.

The entire back wall is glass, and I'm eager to check out that wooded view in the daylight. My eyes land on the hot tub on the back deck and I push dozens of dirty thoughts from my mind.

James leads us to a black iron spiral staircase that opens to a loft above. The space is almost entirely filled with the larger-than-king-sized bed centered in the room. I observe it's the only bed in the small cabin, and my heart flutters in my chest, a combination of lust and nerves.

"The bathroom is through this door." He walks around the other side of the bed and opens a door, reaching inside to flip on what I presume is the bathroom light. He opens another door and deposits my bag in a small closet. I don't care about the bathroom or the bag. All I can look at is the giant bed between us, fantasies of our naked bodies tangled in those sheets playing on repeat in my mind.

He follows my gaze. He clenches his jaw and inhales sharply. His eyes find mine. For a moment, his stare is all heat. Then he shakes his head and examines my face with a titled head.

"Have you slept at all tonight?" he asks.

"Nope."

He nods and rubs the edge of jaw. "Are you hungry?"

I shake my head.

"Want a drink?"

I stifle a grin. "No."

He nods again, his eyes roaming up and down my body. He reaches up and squeezes the back of his neck. He looks conflicted.  I watch as his eyes flick from my eyes to the deep V of my neckline.  I can see the turmoil brewing behind his eyes, a battle between what he wants and what he thinks is best for me. I help him make his decision. I reach down and grasp the edge of my T-shirt and slowly peel it over my head.

"What are you -" His words cut-off mid-sentence when I toss my shirt to the ground. His eyes widen and darken at the same time, greedily roaming over my chest then focussing on the hard nipples straining my against the sheer, red lace of my bra.

I look down and reach for the button of my jeans, then still, the reality of what is about to happen finally registering. I've already seen his perfectly chiseled body, but he's going to see me naked for the first time. The light is on and he can see everything. Every blemish, every flaw.

"Blaise." He closes his eyes and says my name in a raspy voice that sounds almost pained. I feel intimidated and inferior for less than a second because when he opens his eyes, I nearly combust under the heat of his stare. His tongue darts out and wets his bottom lip as his gaze slides back to my eyes.

"You-" his voice cracks and he pauses to clear his throat. "You are so beautiful." His voice is back to its low, sexy rumble. "Perfect," he whispers.

The emotion in his voice and the heat in his eyes gives me the confidence to keep going. I fumble with the button of my jeans and finally get them open. I hitch my thumbs in the waistband and tug.

"Look at me." My hands still at the sound of his voice, my jeans hanging open and stuck midway down my hips, and my eyes immediately meet his at his command. He's leaning against the door frame, his hands casually folded behind his back. His fitted shirts strains across the thick muscles of his broad chest.

I keep my eyes on his and resume tugging at my waistband.

"Stop," he commands, his gaze traveling from my hips to my toes and back again. I don't know that I can stop. I'm on fire. But I still anyway, willing to do just about anything to keep that look on his face.

"Slowly," he begs. "Please."

I pause, then purposefully resume my movements. Slower, like he asked. I'd do just about anything he asked me right now. I have to wriggle to slide the material past my hips and he grins, his eyes following the path of my jeans as they slide down my legs.

"Turn around," he says when I step out of my jeans and scoot them to the side. He holds up his index finger and makes a rotation gesture. I spin for him and hear his sharp intake of air when he notices I'm wearing a thong. The way he responds to my body gives me another confidence boost.

"Come here." His words are gruff, short, as if its all he can manage. He pushes off the wall and walks toward me but stops with a jerk when I raise a knee to the mattress and slowly crawl across the bed toward him. I can see the movement of his throat as he swallows hard. His hands are flexed at his side, his muscles tense as his eyes bounce from my face to my back to my cleavage. He's still so in control.

Until he's not. Right when I get to the edge of the mattress, he lunges forward and grabs me under her armpits, lifting me and tossing me back onto the mattress. I can't help but yelp and then giggle when my back hits the mattress.

He's on me then, out bodies tangled as he swallows my involuntary gasps and moans. I part my legs and his hips settle between mine. He rocks and oh my God.

It's perfect, but I'm not close enough. I need to feel his skin on mine. I grasp at the hem of his shirt, jerking erratically. He pulls back and grins at me.

"So impatient," he chides as he smoothly peels the shirt off. I take only a second to admire his form before I reach for the drawstring of his pants with shaky hands. He's right, I am impatient. My fingers slip under the band of his boxer briefs and he expels a sharp hiss when I lightly run my fingernails across my ass.

A draft blows through the room and I shiver. He stalls, and his hands circle my wrists again.

"Lie back, I'll be right back." No!

"What? Where are you going?" He leans forward and kisses me, long and deep.

"Trust me."

And I do, implicitly. I lean back against the headboard and watch as he quickly lights a fire, then turns the overhead light off.

I appreciate the change in ambiance, his attention to detail not surprising me in the least. But I appreciate it even more when he settles back over me. If he's not inside me soon, I'm going to explode.

I trail a hand down his side and over his abs, but he pulls it away when it starts to dip into the front his briefs.

"Please, James. I need you."

"Not yet, Love. Please. I have plans, and if you touch me right now this is over."

Love? I like the pet name. I like the way he says it, both possessive and reverent. Although the way his eyes widen when he says it makes me think it was a slip of the tongue. I will myself not to overthink it, and focus on the other part of his statement instead.

"Plans?"

"Plans. Turn over."

I roll over on my belly and peer at him over my shoulder. "What kind of plans?"

"The kind where I touch every inch of your skin." Yes. Please.

I loose myself while he does just that, focusing only on the feel of his touch as he runs his index finger from just below my ear, down the back of my neck, and down my spine. The speed and pressure remain absolutely consistent. Measured. Controlled. It's driving me crazy. He captures my earlobe in his mouth, whispering in my ear.

"The kind where I taste every inch of your skin," he continues. His mouth follows the trail his hand just left, kissing and sucking and licking his way down my neck and spine.

I squirm and whimper beneath him as he continues his leisurely pursuit, then instructs me to roll over. He repeats his movements, first with his hands and then with his mouth.

"You are so beautiful." He kisses the inside of my right right thigh. "Perfect." He repeats the gesture on the left. He loops his thumbs through the sides of my thong and slowly peels it down my legs, not once breaking eye contact. When he crawls back between my legs he pauses and looks up at me expectantly, as if he's waiting for my permission. I run my fingers through his hair.

"James, please."

He gives me a devilish grin then dips his head, the muscles in his back and shoulders rippling he presses light kisses up my inner thigh. The second his tongue touches me I let out a sound I don't even recognize. I'd be embarrassed if I had the capacity for any emotion right now than pure ecstasy.

His lips and tongue are soft and slick, but his chin and cheeks are course and rough. The contrasting sensations against my skin are deliciously maddening.

My legs tremble as my fingers grip the dark curls at the back of his head. It only takes a few minutes of his oral undulations, minutes that I'm pretty sure will go down in my personal history as one of the best experiences of my life, before I detonate underneath his expert tongue, his name on my lips.

When I finally open my eyes and my field of vision clears, He has crawled back up my body and is propped on an elbow, smiling down at me with a smug grin on his face.

"How was that?" He raises a cocky eyebrow at me. He knows exactly how that was. I'm certain he can still feel my limbs trembling.

"It was okay." I shrug. I'm certain my state of disoriented bliss is reflected on my face, contradicting my words. "Everything tingles," I admit, and he grins again. "Even my toes."

He chuckles and I half expect his obsessive compulsive ass to get up and wash his face and hands, but he doesn't. He rolls back on top of me instead and looks down on me with hooded eyes. I start to feel the pull of post-orgasmic sleep, but the intensity in his stare wakes me right up.

"We're not done, Love."