Free Vulnerable by Bonita Thompson Page B

way out—she was too attracted to Rawn, and she was at risk of losing herself.
    â€œYou make life seem so simple.”
    It was the first time Rawn detected some level of vulnerability.Not just in her voice, but in her body language, in her eyes. D’Becca let her guard down.
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Rawn asked.
    â€œI don’t know. In talking to you. Being around you. You make it seem so easy.” She looked thoughtful and curiously apprehensive.
    â€œNot always, but yes, I think life’s pretty straightforward.”
    â€œGod, I wish I could think like that.”
    â€œCome with me.”
    They walked a hallway ten feet long give or take, and Rawn stopped to point out another painting hanging on the wall.
    â€œThis one is quiet. Gentle. Not as extravagant as the other one.”
    â€œYou have a good eye,” he said. “I agree with you.”
    â€œYou have a Steinway. Do you play?”
    He wiggled his hand facetiously. “A little.”
    Rawn and D’Becca held each other’s eyes. She moved into him and as natural as she took in the air she breathed, her tongue traced over his moist, full lips—it was as though she had been dying to do it all day. There was little, if any, resistance, but a part of Rawn was unwilling to take it to such an extreme level. He wanted this woman; there was no ambiguity whatsoever. When D’Becca kissed him, he was powerless to defend himself.
    She unbuttoned Rawn’s rain-drenched shirt which clung stubbornly to his deep cocoa skin. He slipped her soft-fabric tee over her head. They kissed long and hard; their passion was raw. With the tip of her tongue, D’Becca outlined a tattoo the shape of a music symbol an inch above Rawn’s left breast.
    â€œI’m out of condoms.” While his voice was low, there was nothing vague about his words.
    â€œIt’s okay.” She continued to kiss his saline skin, dark and smooth as rich, velvety chocolate.
    â€œNo, really.” Rawn intended to sound convincing.
    With a whispery reply, D’Becca said, “It’s okay.”
    â€œLet me double-check.”
    â€œI’m safe. Aren’t you?”
    When his nipple was in D’Becca’s mouth, Rawn could not bring himself to suspend the rhythm. She pressed her collagen-injected lips against his chest like she had been trained. She unbuckled his leather belt and unfastened his in-style jeans.
    â€œWhere’s the bedroom?”
    In the dim room, with streams of the shadowy sky trickling in through the roof windows, D’Becca methodically removed every stitch of Rawn’s clothing. Calm and seductive, she was confident, taunting him with a lick on his skin here, a sultry kiss there. She got excited in watching Rawn try to contain himself. When she caressed his full and hungry manhood, it aroused her. Since she was seventeen, D’Becca had not been with a man her own age, and certainly not one younger than she. Every lover—and even a number of what she called hit-and-runs—was at least ten years her senior, and taught her a number of ways to give men pleasure. Each man taught her something new, and there were some who taught her how to please herself. In retrospect, D’Becca could not recall every lover she had in some faraway land where she had spent nights and days and afternoons getting closer and closer to becoming the woman that would blow Rawn’s mind. Likewise for D’Becca, she felt a violent tremor when he released himself inside her and it never felt like that before; and what she felt was so intense and urgent.
    The quiet night was calm and extraordinarily serene. D’Becca, her breathing gentle, nestled into Rawn, her full breasts against his chest while she slept soundly. He was feeling the exquisite mixture of fear and elation. Later, when Rawn could look at the moment with clear, objective eyes, he would consider his lust forthis woman—it was fierce and