He hooked the waistband, and before I could even blink, he was completely naked before me.
A strangled sound escaped me.
But then he was bending forward, grabbing a handful of my sweater, and dragging me up to my feet by it.
“Your turn,” he said, his voice a sexy rasp that scraped over my sensitive skin.
He turned me, facing me toward the windows. The curtains were still open, the moon shining off the water below.
Then he drew up my shirt and tossed it at our feet.
The cooler air shivered across my heated skin, making goosebumps rise and my nipples twist.
Milo’s hands went to my waistband.
Desire licked along my nerves—sizzling, maddening.
He pulled the material down, the intoxicating drag of the fabric over my sensitive skin making my head fall back on his shoulder with a throaty whimper.
But Milo wasn’t giving in to my need.
His movements were slow, merciless, devastating.
By the time my pants fell to my ankles, my whole body trembled, shaking anything loose in my mind butthis, more.
My little care package of goodies hadn’t included underwear, so when I stepped out of my pants, I was as bare as Milo was. Right there in front of the window.
“You’re shaking,” he murmured, lips warm on my ear. “And I haven’t even touched you yet.”
Desperate for touch, I reached back, placing my hands over his and trying to slide them down.
But they slipped out from under mine, teasing up my ribs, over my belly, tracing the undersides of my breasts.
Everything just right.
And not nearly enough.
But he just kept touching, tracing, teasing, tormenting.
Nerve endings I didn’t know existed sparked.
He found spots I didn’t even know were sensitive and showed me parts of myself I hadn’t known existed.
“Say my name like that again,” he demanded, voice a ragged sound that dragged over my aching skin.
“Milo,” I whimpered.
“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, teeth snagging my ear even as his fingers teased down my thighs but refused to slip inward and give me what we both knew I was aching for.
“You,” I said. “I want you.”
A rumble moved through him.
Then he shifted his hips, and his hard length was pressed against my own need.
I was already at that fragile edge of surrender.
But I needed the slow, deep stretch of him.
