Her fingers hook around the back of my neck. “You can do whatever you want.”
My breath hitches. I brush my thumb along her jaw, my gaze locked on hers. “Careful with that.”
“Why?” she whispers. “Afraid I might break you?”
“No,” I say softly. “Afraid I might fall.”
She freezes, just for a beat. Then she leans up and kisses me—slow and deep, like we’ve got all the time in the world.
Maybe we don’t. But right now? I’m not thinking about what happens next.
Just this.
Just her.
27
FAITH
Ilove feeling the full weight of Hunter against me as he presses his lips to mine—slow, warm, devastating. His body is like a furnace, heat radiating from every inch of him. The only thing I’m wearing now are the blue lace panties he sent me.
He pulls back just enough to murmur, “Get up.”
I blink at him, breath catching. “What?”
He sits back on his heels, his abs flexing in the golden slant of afternoon light. His voice is low, gravelly. “Strip for me. I want you to see how hard you make me.”
A jolt of arousal tightens through me. “Strip? All I’ve got on are these.” I run my palms over the fabric of my panties.
Hunter grins. “Exactly.”
I rise from the bed slowly, pulse pounding in my neck, my chest. I pause for half a beat before sliding my thumbs into the waistband of the panties. I feel his eyes on me—sharp, hungry.
I step out of the lace and stand naked at the foot of the bed, letting him look. Letting myself be seen.
Hunter wraps his hand around the base of his cock, stroking himself with his eyes locked on mine. “Jesus, Faith…” he groans. “You’re even more perfect in the daylight.”
My thighs press together instinctively. Heat floods through me—between my legs, across my chest, blooming up my throat. My skin tightens with awareness, my nipples aching as his gaze rakes over me.
“You’re not the only one with a fantasy,” he says, breath heavy. “Guess you’re mine, too.”
Watching him—this massive, muscled man, strong and always in control—touch himself forme? It’s erotic in a way I didn’t know I craved. There’s power in it, and hunger, and something almost sacred. Like we’re offering pieces of ourselves we’ve kept hidden too long.
I reach between my thighs without thinking, fingers grazing the slick heat already gathered there.
His eyes darken. “Touch yourself. I want to watch.”
I slide my fingers slowly over my clit, never looking away. And I swear, his jaw clenches like he’s in pain from how badly he wants me.
“So hot how you do it, baby,” he groans.
I move back toward the bed, climbing onto the mattress with careful steps. The sheets are cool against my heated skin, and I position myself in the center—knees slightly bent, legs parted just enough to tease, but not enough to give anything away.
Hunter’s eyes track every movement like a hawk. He’s still standing at the foot of the bed, hand wrapped around himself, that massive frame lit up in all the right ways by the afternoon light slipping in through the blinds.
I lie back, pressing my shoulders to the sheets, and slowly—so slowly—drag my fingers down the center of my chest. I make a show of it, not because I’m trying to be performative, but becauseI wantto make him lose control. I want to know I can.
“Mmm.” He groans, stroking himself with his eyes locked on me. His voice is tight, full of restraint.
