“Good?”
“Not bad,” she gasped.
“Still sassy.” He eased one finger inside her underwear, and inside her.
Good lord, she could hear it, the soft sucking sound of her own arousal. Her muscles tensed in expectation.
“You wanted more than a finger, right?” He joined it with another. That was good. Perfect, really. Enough that she felt full without being too stretched. His eyes glittered.
“Yes,” she gasped.
“Fuck, Neve.” He trembled. She felt it right there, at the core of herself, at the center of everything. He crooked the fingers up in a come-hither gesture and her body bowed.
“Take off your shirt,” he crooned.
She raised her brows, even as her hips began to rock as if of their own volition. “You first.”
“Now who’s bossy?”
“The way I see it, two can play at this game.”
“Fair enough.” He had to pull his hand free. She hadn’t thought it through, because that was the last thing she wanted.
He raised those fingers that had just been buried inside her to his mouth and slid them inside. “You taste better than I imagined,” he rumbled. “And believe me. I imagined.”
It was so sexy and filthy that she almost came from his words alone.
But then he unbuttoned his shirt and she forgot everything. How to breathe. Her own name. Sliding her hands down, she parted his shirt to reveal a smooth chest, a light dusting of hair framing each nipple. His chest was broad and his abs weren’t individually defined but flat and lean.
She circled his navel. Here it was—definitive proof he was a man, not a god. But good lord, he was beautifully made. She bent and licked the center of his chest, savoring the muscle with the flat of her tongue.
He frowned like thunder, a faint sheen of sweat at his temples. “Keep that up and you’ll be in trouble.”
“Good.” She licked again. “I like your version of trouble.”
It wasn’t clear who undressed who. Clothes came off in short order. It wasn’t until she went to slip out of her pale underwear that he stopped her. “No. Not those. Those I need to enjoy a little while longer. Then I’m going to rip them off with my teeth.”
She clenched her inner muscles and dropped her gaze to his boxer briefs, the erection straining the black cotton. “I can’t say the feeling is mutual.” She wanted him bare, Tor Gunnar in the flesh, and for her pleasure. A tug of the waistband and she had him exposed in all his glorious thick inches.
He was rock hard.
She did that to him.
He sucked in so sharply that his lower ribs stood in sharp relief. In her time working in the Hellions locker room, she’d seen many specimens of the perfect male form, in all their hard, chiseled, athletic glory.
But Tor, he managed to exude brute strength and arrogant confidence just by breathing. And yet stripped down, there was a whisper of vulnerability. Not embarrassment, just a sense that he was offering himself up, exposing more than just his body. He was the definition of a closed book and now here he was, cracking the cover and giving her a peek at who he was beneath.
She wasn’t sure what to make of it, but was certain of one fact: Good God, he was perfect. Cut and long. He was rock hard and it was all for her. She didn’t feel like an ugly duckling. She didn’t even feel like a beautiful swan. The predatory hunger in his wolfish gaze made her feel like a sex kitten, ready to purr, to arch, to drag her claws down his back and mark her territory.
“I love you looking at me like that,” he murmured in a low, intense voice.
“Then you’re going to adore me after I do this.” She moved to lick his shaft but he pushed down on her shoulders, halting her mouth, mere inches away from her desired target.
“Damn it. No,” he rasped, even as his eyes were glazed and eager. His chest—sheeted in sweat—rose and fell in uneven breaths.
“You don’t want me to?”
“Not yet.” His head shake was short but definite. “I want to take my time withyou. You touch me the way I am right now and it’s going to be over too soon. Not going to lie, it’s been a while for me.”
