“I have plenty,” she replied, scraping her nails gently up my ribs as she shoved my shirt upward until I yanked it over my head. “My cousin sneaks them into my purse every time I see her.”
“Tell her I said thank you.”
Her laugh turned into a gasp as I trailed my lips along the neckline of her dress, making my way around her body until I stood behind her. She sighed, swaying slightly, as I kissed the nape of her neck.
“You said you’d never done this before. You’re not a—”
“No. No, I meant propositioning a stranger,” she replied, tilting her head so I could run my lips up the side of her throat.
“Right.” Her pulse leapt under my caress, so I said, “It’s my first time doing something like this, too.”
I felt her muscles ease, just the faintest release of tension, and she turned her head to smile at me over one shoulder. I’d never had a one-night stand, never slept with someone I hadn’t known for virtually my whole life—the wonders of living in a smalltown—and knowing that we were in this together emboldened me further.
“Now, Eden, I’d like to undress you.”
“About time,” she teased, but a blush crept along her cheekbone before she turned to face away again.
I lowered the zipper of her dress with excruciating slowness, dragging my knuckles along the ridges of her spine before pushing it off her shoulders to reveal a frilly pink petticoat and a black strapless corset thing. The sight of them destroyed my commitment to drawing this out until she was ready to combust.
“Holy shit,” I breathed. “What is this called?”
“A bustier?”
“Bustier,” I repeated, committing it to memory—both the word and the sight.
“You like it?” she asked.
“It’s going to haunt my fantasies for the rest of my life.”
Her hazel eyes danced at my awestruck reaction when she turned around and shoved the fluffy petticoat down over her hips, revealing black satin panties that matched the top. I coasted my hands over the sleek fabric, teasing her nipples through the layers until she gasped, then she spun around again.
“There’s another zipper.”
This time, my patience was shot. I slid it quickly down and peeled back the sides of the garment, letting it fall to the floor as I stepped up behind her and let my hands wander across her bare skin until she turned to unzip my jeans and shoved themdown. With each article of clothing we shed, I forgot more and more about the disappointing text from my landlord.
Christ, she was a gift.
“Please, Milo.”
“Please what?” I asked, experimenting with varying pressure on her nipples, listening for the hitch in her breath as she arched into my touch.
“Take me to bed.”
We were only a few feet from it, but I swept her into my arms and laid her against the pillows. She reached up to unclip the daisy from her hair, tossing it to the pile of clothes on the floor.
I explored her tattoos, both the flowers along her collarbone and a shooting star on one side of her ribs, tucked right under the curve of her breast. She trailed her fingertips over my beard, murmuring her approval of its softness, then through the hair on my chest and over the stomach that would never house a six-pack.
Given the way she dragged her nails over the skin there, the way she purred deep in her throat as her hand moved lower, Eden didn’t seem to mind.
We spent what felt like years exploring each other. Decades, centuries, I had no way of knowing how much time passed as I teased her, tasted her, sought out every hot spot of pleasure she possessed until she begged me to fuck her.
As if I had the ability to refuse.
When I finally sank into her, one word reverberated inside my head like the strike of a gong.
Paradise.
Each gasp, each moan, each purr from her throat echoed around us like music. She was lush and round, soft as silk under my hands and lips. That vulnerability from earlier didn’t convert to shyness—she knew what she wanted and didn’t hesitate to ask for it.
