His laugh simmers down and the look in his eye
changes: it becomes deeper, more intense and it
seems like he’s eating me with his eyes.
He brings his hands up to my shirt and gives me
a malicious smile before pulling it over my head,
leaving me topless before him. I blush and avert
my gaze because I’m afraid of drowning in
emotion and not being able to make it back up to
the surface again.
“Erin,” he says, taking my chin in his hands.
“You are beautiful. Breathtaking.”
I shake my head. I know it’s a lie. I’m pregnant,
my Lord, how does he expect me to believe that?
“Look at me,” he asks me and reluctantly I do.
“I’ve been dreaming about touching this body
for months. And…” He breathes loudly. “Since I
hugged you that night outside the bar for the first
time, I haven’t been with any other girl.”
“Wha … what?” I ask incredulously.
He shrugs his shoulders.
“I just wanted you to know.”
So I didn’t imagine it all. I didn’t romanticize
his words in my mind … every word, gesture and
caress.
It was all true.
He wanted me just like I wanted him.
I draw him to me, sliding my hand behind the
nape of his neck. He responds to my call and I
abandon myself to his touch, to his tongue that
traces the irregular line of my neck to my spine,
