He doesn’t argue. He lifts me easily, my legs locking around his waist as he carries me toward the bedroom. The air between us crackles.
When he lays me down, his eyes hold mine. For a moment, the world narrows to just this.
“Forever is a foreign concept in my world, Coco,” he says quietly, pressed hard against me.
“Right now isn’t,” I answer.
His weight anchors me to the bed as his mouth moves from my lips to my neck. Each kiss burns hotter than the last.
"Stay still," he murmurs against my throat, his voice low and certain.
My body responds instantly to his command, a tremor running through me. I don't move except to breathe as his fingers find the top button of my blouse.
"Is this what you want?" His eyes hold mine, serious and intent.
"Yes." The word comes out breathless. "God, yes."
One by one, he works the buttons open. There's no rush in his movements, just deliberate focus that prickles my skin with anticipation.
When he reaches the last one, he doesn't immediately push the fabric aside. Instead, his fingertips trace the exposed strip of skin from my collarbone to my navel.
"You're beautiful." He says it like he's stating a simple fact, not offering a compliment. My legs start to shake, so I press my thighs together.
He eases the blouse from my shoulders, his palms sliding down my arms as he removes it completely. The cool air hits my skin, making me shiver.
"Cold?" His mouth curves slightly.
I shake my head. "Not cold."
His hand slides beneath me, finding the clasp of my bra with practiced ease. He unhooks it, then slowly pulls it away. My nipples harden instantly in the air and under his gaze.
"Perfect," he whispers, lowering his head.
The first touch of his mouth on my breast pulls a gasp from me. My back arches, pressing closer to his lips as heat spirals through my body. His tongue circles my nipple before he takes it between his teeth, applying just enough pressure to make me whimper.
"Turn over," he says, pulling back. "On your hands and knees."
My heart pounds against my ribs as I comply, shifting onto my stomach and then rising to position myself asinstructed. I'm vulnerable and exposed even though I'm still half-dressed, and it turns me on even more.
His hands find my hips, steadying me. Then they move to the zipper of my jeans, pulling it down with excruciating slowness.
"Lift up," he instructs, and I raise my hips so he can slide my jeans down my legs.
The mattress shifts as he moves behind me. His hands trace the curve of my spine, down to the edge of my underwear. One finger slips beneath the elastic, running along the band but going no further.
"Tell me what you need," he says, his voice rough with restraint.
"Touch me," I whisper, desperate for more contact. "Please."
His palm slides over the thin fabric covering me, applying just enough pressure to make me push back against his hand.
"Like this?" he asks, knowing exactly what he's doing to me.
"More."
He hooks his fingers into my underwear and draws it down slowly, exposing me inch by inch.
"You're already wet for me," he observes, his finger sliding through my folds.
