He exhales like he’s been underwater.
For a moment, we stay suspended on the edge of something neither of us knows how to name but both of us feel.
His hands slide up my legs, along my hips, my waist, my ribs, slow as if he’s worshipping my skin. His mouth follows, trailing hot, demanding kisses along my jaw, my throat, the scar there.
His fingers find the button of my jeans, and my lady bits immediately start doing the cucaracha.
“Is this okay?” he asks, voice low, careful.
“Yes,” I breathe. “It’s more than okay. It’s so okay I have to fist my hands at my sides so I don’t smash your face into my... okay, I’m gonna shut up now.”
His chuckle reverberates through me as he slides my jeans off, the motion smooth, unhurried, and tosses them somewhere to the side. My first thought iscrap, please don’t let me trip over those later.
Then I stop myself.
You are about to have a man do… things… to you on your kitchen counter and you’re worried about a mess? Priorities,Violet. So I distract myself by making short work of removing my shirt and bra.
“Your turn,” I say.
He laughs softly. “Greedy, are we?”
“Seems only fair.”
I hear the soft rustle of his T-shirt being pulled over his head. He takes my hands gently, guiding them to his chest. Smooth skin, a light dusting of hair between two very defined pecs. My palms feel scorched from the heat radiating off him.
He trails my hands down his abs, and my brain short-circuits.
Where’s that honey when you need it? I could lick this man clean for a second dessert.
He steps back slightly. “Lie there for me,” he murmurs. “With your legs open. I want to look at you.”
I gulp. Actually gulp. Because I can’t see what he sees. I had the last of my laser hair removal about a month before the accident, so I know I’m smooth as a bowling ball down there, but vulnerability is vulnerability.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he breathes. “Tell me, Violet… did you ever look at yourself before the accident? Do you know how pretty you are down here?”
Holy…
My lady bits clamp down hard enough to crack walnuts. No one has ever spoken to me like this, and I like it. A lot.
“Answer me, beautiful. Tell me if you ever looked while you made yourself come.”
Something in his voice, the roughness, the reverence, hits my hearing like velvet dragged over skin. Sensual. Impossible. Wickedly intimate.
“No,” I whisper.
“Then I’ll describe how fucking gorgeous you are. But first…,” he says.
He moves away, and I instantly miss him. I prop myself onto my elbows.
The freezer opens, and I hear the scrape of the wire basket against the side of the freezer. The hollow clink of an ice tray.
My entire body lights up.
Please let the ice be for me. Please let the ice be for me.
The tap of ice against teeth makes my breath catch. Then cool lips find mine. Impossibly cold, impossibly delicious. I part my lips, and ice melts against my tongue.
He works his way down my body, trailing the chill along my neck, over my collarbone. I shiver, but not from cold. From sheer anticipation.
