She bites her lip and nods. I slip them down her legs, and she steps out of them one foot at a time. When I see her simple white panties, my vision almost blurs. I lift my hands and run them up her thighs, over her ass, and back to her waist.
“Christ,” I murmur. “You’re beautiful.”
She gives me a smirk. “You just noticed?”
“No, ma’am. I’ve been suffering since you arrived, but you send a new shockwave through me every time we’re this close.”
She laughs, quiet and breathless, and steps closer, wrapping her arms around my neck. My hands settle at her hips, thumbs grazing bare skin.
“Duke,” she says, pulling away.
“What?”
“You’re still dressed. I won’t stand for it.”
I grin, loving the heat in her eyes, the challenge in her voice. My hands rush to my jacket, but she stops me. She leans in, her lips hovering against mine. She kisses me hard and then steps back, slipping her hands under my jacket and then pushing it off in one swift motion. My whole body tightens under her touch like a wire drawn taut, begging to snap. Breath leaves my body in what feels like short gasps.
She kisses me again, but before I can wrap my arms around her, she glances at my shirt. I know I wanted to take my time, but there’s a heat pooling low in my gut—hot and impossible tocontain. If I don’t get these clothes off my damn body, they’re going to burst into flames.
Her voice drops into that sultry register that drives me straight out of my mind. “I want to do something to you.”
“Anything,” I scrape out.
“It involves me ruining this very expensive Armani shirt, though.”
I can barely think but still manage to use my words. “Ruin it, ruin me, do it, I don’t care.”
Her smile widens. With a sharp tug, the buttons go flying—at least three scatter across the hardwood floor, one pings off the nightstand.
“Wow, just like in the movies,” she breathes.
She pushes the shucked fabric off my shoulders like she’s unwrapping something she’s waited too damn long to touch. I let her like I’m her prisoner. Our mouths crash into each other, and the way she nips at my lip before pulling away… That little bite of pain mixed with pleasure is so fucking hot.
Her hands are everywhere—my chest, my belt, the back of my neck—and then she grinds up against me once, deliberately, and damn if I don’t nearly lose it right there. I stop her short of taking off my boxer briefs because I need something to contain the animal in me until I make her come so breathtakingly hard it shatters the windows. This moment deserves better than my desperation.
My palms find her waist, spanning the narrow space between her ribs and hips. She sheds her pajama top slowly. Her hands then move behind her back, those blue eyes holding mine captive, and then her lace bra slides away from perfect skin. The lamplight catches the curve of her breasts, and I have to grip her waist harder to keep myself steady—she’s more beautiful than memory served, more perfect than I dared imagine.
“Wait,” I breathe.
She stills, panting hard, pupils wide and wild.
“What?” she whispers, her hands roaming over my ass.
I lean in close, press my forehead to hers, our breath mingling in the small space between us. “I need to know you want this,” I say quietly, my voice rougher than I intended. “Not just the heat of the moment. You want me … us…” My thumb grazes her nipple, and she arches into the touch with a soft moan that nearly breaks my resolve.
“I’ve never wanted anything more in my life,” she whispers, her hand sliding up to cup the back of my neck. “I want you, Duke. I want us. I want to let go with you completely.”
That’s it. That’s all I need to hear. “Yes, ma’am.”
I exhale once, deep and rough. I feel wild and feral like a bull about to pop out of its chute, but I know I must tap into every part of me associated with restraint because I owe her. I never got to pleasure her the way I wanted to in the tent that morning. Bending slightly, I grip her thighs and sweep her straight off the ground in one fluid motion.
“Duke—”
“You said my name,” I growl. “Time to finish what we started in my truck that night.”
I toss her onto the bed, and she lands in a heap of wild hair, giggling and perfect. I stare down at her for a second—just one second—before my voice drops into something lower. Hungrier. “And now I’m going to take my time.”
my turn
