“Why’s that?” he asks roughly.
“It’s sexy as hell,” I say against his skin. I finish the buttons and slide my hands inside, over his firm chest. “But then”—I shrug—“you always look sexy.”
He reaches behind himself to pull his shirt off, keeping his eyes locked on mine. “Do you actually mean that?”
I give him a funny look. He’s the most self-assured person I know; is he really asking if I think he’s hot?
“Uh, yeah,” I say with amusement, waiting for his cocky grin to slide into place. But it doesn’t.
“You’ve never told me that before.”
“Of course I haven’t.” I lean in to kiss his tattooed shoulder. “The last thing I want to do is further inflate your ego.”
“You know, you have this really crazy idea of who I am.”
“What?” I murmur, pressing my lips into the soft skin of his neck, only half-listening.
“That’s not the first time you’ve said something to me about having a big ego. Do you honestly think that’s who I am?”
I draw back to find his brow furrowed into a deep frown.
“You’ve formed this opinion of me based on what? How I behave at the bar?”
I sigh. Looks like I’ve woken Freud anyway. “Do we have to talk about this now?”
He gazes at me for another second, then gives a low chuckle. “You’re right, sorry. I just kind of lost my mind when you said I was sexy.”
“Whatever,” I mutter, leaning in to kiss him again, nipping at his bottom lip. “I’ve seen the women all over you at work. You must get told that all the time.”
“Well, yeah, I have been told that before.” He glances away with an uncharacteristically bashful look on his face. “But I guess I never really cared.”
“And how is this different?”
He takes my hand, bringing his gaze back to mine with a shy smile. “Because it’syou.”
Oh.
My heart stutters. I examine his face; the way his eyes are searching mine hopefully, the way he’s biting his lip, the slight flush in his cheeks. He looks so vulnerable—soopen—that emotion claws its way up my throat, tightening my chest, and all I know is that if I don’t kiss him right now, the world will stop turning.
This time, his kiss is different. It sends a shower of sparks down through my center, across my skin, until my body feels nothing beyond the ferocious ache to have him. It must be an ache he’s feeling too, because suddenly we’re yanking off the rest of our clothes and he’s rolling on a condom, unable to wait a second longer to be together.
I lie back on the bed, parting my legs as he climbs on top of me and takes my mouth in a scorching kiss. When he pushes inside me, my body opens in surrender. In this moment, nothing exists beyond his skin on mine, his heart drumming against me, the stroke of our tongues desperate to taste every drop of the other. It’s like we’ve forgotten that we’ve been together before, because that feels like another lifetime and this feels like the first time all over again.
“Fuck, Cat,” he rasps against my ear, his hot, hard body pressing me into the mattress. “I can’t get enough of you.” He’s an inferno, every inch of his skin setting fire to me in the best way. I have the fleeting thought that he could burn me away to nothing and I wouldn’t care. I want him to use me up.
He lifts himself onto his arms, changing the angle, watching as I gasp at the new sensation. But there’s no self-satisfied grin this time, just raw need in his eyes as he drives into me, wanting to see me lose control.
And I am—I feel myself unraveling again, unspooling, coming apart at the seams. I can’t make sense of the feeling in my ribcage and the way it expands when he looks at me like that, the way I want this moment to never end. I can’t remember ever feeling like this.
Shit, I don’t want to think about what that means.
He pushes back onto his knees and lifts my hips, slowing to deep, rolling thrusts. I raise a shaky hand to brush a curl off his forehead, and he turns his head, kissing my wrist. It’s the tiniest thing, but it makes my breath catch in my throat.
Suddenly, he feels too far away. I reach for his shoulders, pulling him back down until he’s lying on me, skin to skin. “I want you close,” I murmur, threading my hands into his hair, bringing his mouth down onto mine again. In between kisses I say, “I can’t get enough of you, either.” I feel him smile against my lips and this makes me giddy, until the whole room is spinning around me and I can’t remember where I am. What is he doing to me?
He rolls us onto our side and wraps me in his arms, hands tightening, claiming my skin, possessing me. His mouth tracks over my collarbone, onto my shoulder, sucking and biting, like he’s trying to leave a mark. I imagine his bite tattooed on my skin and my pulse rushes dangerously.
“Myles,” I breathe, sliding my tongue out to lick the salty skin of his neck. “You taste so good.” I can’t help myself—I bite him back. Maybe I can leave a mark, too.
