He traced the edge of the material, trying to look knowledgeable. “Okay… there has to be an entry point. A seam. A trapdoor. Something.”
Her breath caught — half laugh, half something. He glanced up at her face, softer now, humor threaded with a shyness that tugged at something deep in his chest.
“There’s a clasp … here.” She pointed to the valley between her breasts.
His own throat tightened. He lifted his hands — careful, suddenly …nervous? — and awareness jolted through him when the backs of his fingers brushed against the silk encasing her breasts.
He found the clasp and flicked it open. The bodysuit slackened instantly, the fabric releasing tension like a held breath.
“Then you just … peel it off,” she whispered.
He eased it away from her breasts.
Air lodged in his throat.
She was breathtaking.
A reverent sound escaped him before he could stop it. He lifted his hands slowly, carefully, his palms skimming her curves, memorizing the warmth of her, the way she trembled. Her nipples puckered under his touch.
She gasped. He groaned.
He lowered his head and closed his mouth on a hard pink nub, feasting on the bounty bared to him. Her fingers threaded through his hair, nails scraping his scalp, holding him close.
Every part of him burned for her.
Every breath, every heartbeat, every ragged pulse of need.
He wanted her with a hunger that shook him.
More, heneededher. Neededinher.
Needed to feel her sweet warmth as he joined with her, making them one.
He needed that. Now.
His hands found the material still hugging her hips. “Off. Now,” he rasped, tugging the spandex over her hips and down her thighs, holding her steady as she stepped out of it.
He wanted to tell her she was stunning, breathtaking, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen … but the words felt too small for the truth.
Instead, he’d show her.
He placed a light kiss on her sternum, inhaling the sweet fragrance of her skin, floral and fresh and very feminine, before standing on his not so steady legs. He dragged the comforter from the bed in one swift motion and turned—
And froze.
Glorious body on full display, Suzette arched back, shaking her hair loose, fingers combing through the cascade of liquid gold as it spilled down her back, shimmering in the lamplight. It was the kind of sight that stole the breath right out of a man’s lungs.
Was there no end to her allure?
“Hot damn, sweet Suze. Are you trying to kill me?”
He toed off his shoes, shucked his pants with record speed, snagged her hand, and they tumbled back onto the mattress together.
And then it was all heat and breath and the sweet slide of bodies finding each other — a tangle of sighs, laughter, and desperate, beautiful wanting.
His hands mapped her, her body arched into his, and the room filled with the low, mumbled sounds of two people who could no longer hold back.
Two people who seized the moment, who understood that this night belonged to them.
