He pulls back. Just…takes his hands off me.
I start to protest but stop when I see why.
He’s undressing.
I fall silent, my breath caught in my throat, watching wide-eyed as he strips. First his shirt, tugged over his head in one fluid motion, muscles flexing, his skin flushed and golden in the dim light. Then his belt, pants, and boxer briefs hit the floor one by one, rustling softly like fallen leaves.
Until, finally, he’s bare.
I’ve seen him half-naked before, plenty of times. As he came out of the shower. Got dressed in the morning. Slipped under the covers at night. The time he fought Sampson. I’ve caught pieces of him. Fleeting glimpses. A flash of defined abs. A peek of curved hip and sculpted ass as he turned away.
But this…this is all of him.
And it’s jaw-dropping.
Stunning.
A fucking work of art is Carrson Ashford naked.
He’s all broad shoulders and long lines, his chest tapering into a hard, ridged abdomen. Light catches on the sharp V of his lower stomach, that deep groove that disappears beneath taut skin and muscle. Like an arrow, it draws my eyes lower. His thighs are powerful, thick, carved with muscle. They could open me wide, pin me down, keep me exactly where he wants me.
Veins snake down his forearms, his hands twitching like he’s barely holding himself back.
His cock is thick and heavy, flushed dark, straining with need.
Carrson catches me staring. He smirks. “Like what yousee?”
Arrogant, as usual.
“Please,” I scoff, forcing my gaze up to his face like I wasn’t just ogling his cock like it belongs in a museum. “You’re not that impressive.”
One of his brows lifts. Slowly. Deliberately.
“Oh no?” His voice is low and dangerously amused. “You’re staring like I’m the last glass of water in a desert.”
“I was looking at your…uh…knees,” I lie. Badly.
“Uh-huh.”
He steps closer, and I have to tilt my chin up to meet his eyes. “Want to try that again? Or do you want to admit the truth—” His fingers brush the waistband of my jeans, and heat blooms low in my belly, “that you love the way I look when I’m about to ruin you.”
I swallow hard. My body answers before I can, my hips tilting, breath hitching, heat pooling low.
He sees it. His gaze rakes over me, slow and scorching. Something behind his eyes sharpens. It’s dark. Ravenous. Predatory in a way that makes my thighs clench and my breath stutter.
“Strip.”
The command cracks through the air like a whip.
“It’s not the first time you’ve said that to me.” I give him a pointed look, my voice light but tinged with heat, a callback to the first night we spent in this room. When he forced me to stay.
“I remember,” he says, his mouth curving into a wicked grin. “Look how far we’ve come.”
He leans in and presses a single kiss to my lips, swift, sharp, over far too soon. Then he straightens, takes a step back, and crooks his finger in a slow, unmistakable command.
Undress.
So bossy,I think as I stare back, my jaw tight.Hmm.He thinks he’s the only one who can tease? Who can make someone ache with nothing but a look?
