He kisses down the side of my throat and across my collarbone. His hand travels up my thigh, the slit giving him easy access. He grabs my ass tightly and pulls me against him.
“Tex,” I pant, “untie me.” I turn around, pressing my ass against him, feeling his hard cock press back into me.
His fingers brush over the fabric of the corset. I arch slightly as his fingers toy with the ribbons, tugging gently, undoing them one by one until the laces loosen and the bodice gapes open at the back.
His fingertips trace the spaces between each ribbon, slowly sliding down the length of my spine, featherlight.
I flinch.
It’s small. A flicker of panic in my breath, a tremble in my shoulders—but he notices. Texstops.
His hand stays right where it is, barely resting on my lower back.
He speaks into my ear. “Hey.” His forehead rests against the side of mine. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I know,” I whisper, but my voice cracks. “It’s not that. It’s just… they’re still there.”
His hand moves again, carefully this time, not down—just across. Comforting. A steady weight.
“I’ve seen them,” he says, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. “That night. When the pictures were everywhere.”
I tense. His hand reaches around, tilting my chin to look back at him.
“And all I could think was how fucking strong you must be to have lived through it.”
Tears burn behind my eyes.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing my cheek, then the corner of my mouth. “Every scar, every line. Not because they define you—because you survived them. You’re still standing.”
I blink fast, swallowing a lump that comes from nowhere.
“I don’t want you to hide from me,” admiration thick in his voice. “Not your scars. Not your fire. I want all of you, Isobel.”
My breath hitches and I nod.
And when he kisses me again, it isn’t to devour—it’s to worship.
Tex’s hands skim over the open back of my corset, now loosened and slipping down my body. I let it fall. The cool air kisses my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of him—his body, his gaze.
I whirl around to face him, pushing his jacket off and unbuttoning his shirt.
His body is all muscle and defined lines, scars mapping their way across tanned skin. My eyes drag over every inch—his broad shoulders, the sculpted ridges of his chest, the way his stomach tightens under my gaze, the veins that climb up his arms.
I press my hand to his abdomen, fingers splayed and feel the heat of him. He stills beneath my touch, watching me with something fierce in his eyes.
“You’re beautiful,” I say before I can stop myself. Not in the fragile,pretty way—but in the carved-from-survival, devastating way. A body built to endure.
He clears his throat. “I’ve never been called that before.”
“You are.” I lean in to press a kiss to the scar on his side. “All of you.”
Tex pushes the rest of my dress down, letting it pool around my ankles. He pushes me back onto the bed and stands over me. His eyes trace over my breasts, my nipples pebbled. The black lace thong is the only thing left. He undoes his pants, and they drop to the floor, leaving him standing there in just plain black briefs. His cock is outlined by the fabric.
I lie back, chest rising and falling, and he follows me down, pressing a line of kisses from my collarbone to the center of my chest. Each one unravels a knot inside me.
His hands frame my ribs, reverent, as though I’m something divine. I arch into him, silently asking for more.
He groans low in his throat. “You’re going to drive me insane.”
