“Your turn,” he says, turning slowly, gentling his hands over the buttons of my flannel like he’s undoing a gift. “Look at me.”
I lift my eyes to his. Each button he releases unravels me a little more. He slides the shirt off my shoulders and down my arms. I’m not wearing a bra, and the air on my heated skin is a shock and a relief.
He swallows, gaze moving from my heavy breasts to my belly and back to my face.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he says simply. “More than.”
Warmth rolls through me in a wave. I want him to touch, but I want the words too. “Tell me,” I whisper, surprising myself. “Tell me what you see.”
His eyes heat, but his voice stays even. “I see a woman who makes every part of me shake because I want her so fucking much. Curves I’m going to learn inch by inch. Breasts the perfect size for these palms, and nipples begging for my mouth and tongue.”
“Yes,” I say helplessly, already arching.
He lowers his head. His mouth is greedy—open heat over the top of my breast, then the soft drag of his tongue around my nipple that tightens every muscle in my body from throat to thighs. He doesn’t rush. He sucks slowly, savoring me, one hand bracing my back to hold me where he wants me, the other splayed low on my waist.
My head falls back, and I make a noise I’ve never made before as pleasure surges from my nipple to my sex.
“That’s it,” he says against my skin, the words vibrating through me. “Let me hear you.”
I gasp as he switches sides, worshiping the other nipple. My knees loosen. He chuckles low in his throat and steers us down onto the bed. The world is reduced to heat and breath and the scrape of his stubble on my sensitive skin.
He kisses a path down the valley between my breasts and rests his cheek against my stomach. His hands slide to the button of my jeans, and he pauses.
“Say it,” he prompts, looking up, eyes so intent my stomach flips.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Please take them off.”
Chapter 12
Wyatt
I ease Sadie’s jeans and panties over her hips and down her legs, leaving her naked.
“Wyatt?” she whispers, her hands moving to cover herself.
I clasp her wrists in one big hand and pin them above her head. “Lie still and let me look, Dove. Okay?”
The doubt is her eyes burns away as she watches me drink her in. I groan, long and low, easing up until I’m sitting between her spread thighs. My gaze moves down to her pussy, where her slick, swollen flesh tells me how much she wants me.
“Christ, Sadie.” I scrub a hand over my face. “Fucking perfect.”
I kiss the jut of her hipbone and the inside of her knee.
She shivers and laughs breathlessly. “Ticklish.”
I grin. Then my mouth moves to her inner thigh, and her laugh dissolves into something shameless.
I pause an inch from where she’s wet, breathing her in like she’s air. “Tell me what you want.”
Her throat bobs as she swallows. “I want your mouth.”
“Where?”
She slides a hand between her legs. “Here.”
I nod. “Yes, ma’am.”
My tongue slides slowly through her folds with a pressure that makes her hips climb my face. I hold her steady, one arm around her thigh, the other hand splayed low on her belly—a gentle anchor, a reminder she can let go and the world won’t tilt.
