But the way Alex is looking at me...
"You're beautiful," he says. "Please don't hide from me, Em. Never hide from me. I want to see all of you. Every single inch."
His hand traces my collarbone, then down the valley between my breasts, over my stomach. My skin pebbles in the wake of histouch, goosebumps rise despite the warmth of the room. When his fingers hook under the band of my bra, I arch my back in silent permission.
He unclasps it with impressive efficiency (honestly, I'm taking notes, like, where did he get this experience), and then it's gone, and his eyes darken even further as he takes me in.
"Even better than I imagined."
His mouth replaces his hand, kissing down my neck, my collarbone, the top of my breast. When his lips close around my nipple, I let out a low, long moan. His tongue circles the sensitive peak, rolls the nipple between his lips, and then he sucks. It's hard enough to make me gasp, but gentle enough to leave me desperate for more.
He gives the other breast the same attention as his free hand kneads the one he just abandoned, and I squirm beneath him, my fingers digging into his biceps. Well, they would dig in if his biceps were not carved from marble. I need something, anything, more than this exquisite torture.
"God, Alex…"
He lifts his head and smirks. "You wrote something in that card."
Remember that thing about my brain cells withering and dying? Well, they're still apparently dead because I can't remember exactly what I wrote. There was a lot. Most of it inappropriate. All of it filthy.
"I-I wrote a lot of things, Alex. Too much. Which one are you talking about?"
Alex moves lower, pressing kisses down my stomach, positioning himself between my legs. He runs his hand along the expanse of my thighs, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin there.
"About my mouth."
Which one? What is he…oh, shit, yes!
The last of my coherent thoughts completely evaporates as he settles between my legs, his breath hot against the inside of my thigh.
"You wanted to know if I'd take my time or be efficient," he growls, his voice deepening.
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. "And?"
His mouth touches my inner thigh—not quite a kiss, more a brush of lips—and the scratch of his stubble against sensitive skin makes me gasp. "Guess you're about to find out."
Alex's thumbs trace the edge of my underwear, and I have to fight the urge to buck my hips and beg him to touch my pussy. But God, he takes his sweet time while I'm over here, almost mad with lust.
He does the same to my other thigh, and I make a sound that's definitely not human, sounding almost like Croissant.
"You mentioned this, too," he says against my skin. "How my stubble would feel here."
I manage a shaky nod. "It's … yes, that's?—"
His fingers hook into my underwear, dragging them down agonizingly slowly, and then they're gone, and I'm completely naked under his gaze.
I expect him to rush now. To give in to the hunger I see in his eyes. Instead, he continues his torturous pace, pressing kisses to my inner thighs, moving closer to my pussy.
By the time his mouth finally, finally makes contact, I'm trembling, anticipation coiled so tight in my belly I think I might snap.
The first drag of his tongue along my slit has me seeing stars. My hips buck off the bed involuntarily, and his hands immediately grip them, pressing me back down. "Don't move, Em."
I try to obey. I really do. But my body has other ideas, especially when his tongue flattens against me, taking long, firm strokes that have my thighs quivering on either side of his head.
One of my hands fists the sheets, the other reaches for his hair. When my fingers tangle in the dark strands, tugging slightly, he groans against me—the vibration making me cry out.
"Alex, that's … oh God."
He pays attention. That's the thing that's going to kill me. He notices what makes me loudest, what makes my back arch off the bed, and he doubles down on those movements. Broad strokes alternating with focused attention on my clit.
