I arch against him, rubbing my thighs along his, feeling the heat of him through the denim of his jeans.
He growls low and deep. It vibrates through my chest—through my core.
I slide my hands over the planes of his back, feeling knots, strength, and warmth.
He nudges me with his hips, grinds his cock against me. I gasp, dragging a hand over his chest, tasting the sweat, the salt, him.
His lips trace along my neck, graze my collarbone, and tease the curve of my breast over the thin fabric of my top.
My fingers twitch toward the belt at his waist.
“Wait,” he rasps against my ear, voice trembling with something deeper than lust. “I want to do this right.”
Before I can answer, he hoists me up. My legs instinctively curl tighter around him, holding on as he navigates the short, narrow hallway.
I press my lips to the roughness along his jaw, tasting the salt of him. I trail my tongue along the stubble, nipping lightly.
He shudders.
I love it.
I press my mouth to the curve of his neck. Then the side of his shoulder. Nipping. Dragging my lips across warm skin. A low groan trembles through him, deep and ragged.
Every sound he makes is fire. Each rough inhale, every hitch, every guttural rumble vibrates through my teeth, my chest, my veins. All of them make me want more—more of this, more of him, more of the way he trembles under me.
I press my lips to the curve of his throat.
His hands dig into my hips harder, and I’m dizzy with the heat radiating from his body.
I kiss along the ridge of his collarbone, nipping, sucking. It’s enough to make him hiss my name under his breath.
He sways, nearly bumping into the wall. Every growl and rasp I extract from him makes my chest thrum.
He kicks open the bedroom door, and the hallway disappears, leaving just us, heated and hungry with desire.
He lowers me at the foot of the bed. My fingers brush over his ribs, across his abs.
I swallow against my own groan.
His eyes flick to mine, lips parting in a dangerous grin full of promise and heat.
“I could devour you right here.” His fingers slide my shirt off my shoulder. “But I want you. Every bit of you. And I’m taking my time.” His voice is thick with hunger.
“Then take me.” I’m breathless. “All of me.” I lift the T-shirt over my head and toss it to the floor, bearing my breasts to him. “Slowly.” I push my shorts over my hips, and they fall to the floor. “Every last inch.”
We’re moving from want to something deeper, tender, and scorching all at once.
Even in the dark, I can see his molten eyes drinking me in.
His hand finds the back of my head, and suddenly his mouth is on mine.
Warm. Firm. Claiming.
My lips part, and his tongue slides against mine, slow and deep.
I don’t think.
I just feel.
