“You have a problem with that?”
“Hmm.” He crossed the room in three strides and stopped in front of me, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. His eyes twinkled. “Yeah. I’m going to need that back.”
I reached out and traced the line of muscle running down his stomach, feeling it jump under my touch. “You’re going to have to take it off me, then.”
He caught my wrist, his grip firm but not painful. “So uncooperative.”
I grinned, even though I was getting more turned on by the moment. “Stop talking and do something about it.”
He growled—actually growled—and then his mouth was on mine, hot and demanding. I opened for him immediately, tasting the sweetness of the alcohol on his tongue. He kissed like he fought, with total commitment and zero hesitation.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down with me onto the sleeping platform. He came willingly, his weight settling over me in a way that should have felt confining but instead felt right. Safe and dangerous all at once.
His hands found the hem of my borrowed shirt and slid underneath, palms rough against my ribs. I arched into the touch, wanting more. Needing more.
“This okay?” he asked against my mouth, always checking, always making sure.
“Yes. God, yes.”
He pulled back just enough to yank the shirt over my head, leaving me bare beneath him. For a moment, he just looked at me, his gaze tracking over my body with an intensity that made me shiver.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice rough. “So damn beautiful.”
I wasn’t. I was all sharp angles and scars, muscle and bone with none of the softness men usually went for. My face was “bitchy,” I’d been told, and I didn’t put in any effort to changethat. But the way he looked at me made me feel like the most desirable woman in the galaxy.
“Your turn,” I said, hooking my fingers in the waistband of his pants.
He helped me push them down, and then he was naked above me, his cock thick and hard, the head flushed darker than the rest of him. I wrapped my hand around him, feeling the weight and heat of him, and he made a sound that was almost pained.
“Iris—”
“Tell me what you want,” I said, stroking him slowly from base to tip.
“You. Just you.” His hips flexed into my grip, seeking more friction. “I want to make you feel good. Want to hear you say my name when you come.”
Heat flooded through me at his words. I guided him closer, spreading my legs to make room for him between them. “Then make me.”
He kissed me again, one hand sliding down between us to where I was already wet and ready. His fingers found my clit and circled it with just the right amount of pressure, and I gasped into his mouth.
“Like that?” he asked.
“More.”
He complied, increasing the pressure until pleasure sparked through me. I could feel myself getting wetter, my body preparing for him. His fingers slid lower, teasing my entrance, and I rolled my hips against his hand.
He pushed one finger inside me, then another, stretching me carefully. I was tight, but like the night before, my body welcomed the intrusion. I clenched around his fingers, wanting more, needing more.
“You’re so tight,” he groaned. “So perfect.”
I reached between us and wrapped my hand around his cock again, stroking him firmly. He was hot and hard in my palm, and I could feel him throbbing with need.
“I want you inside me,” I said. “Now.”
He pulled his fingers free and positioned himself at my entrance. For a moment, we just looked at each other, both of us breathing hard.
“You’re sure?” he asked.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
