When the backs of our hands touch, my skin warms up and I question my sanity for this reaction. But our eyes meet, and I recognize the same awe coated in apprehension in Eliza and my fingers wrap around her dainty ones like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
She takes in the utilitarian interior while I close the door and lean on it, admiring her. There’s only a smallcouch and a living room set in the single room where the metal farmhouse bed is pushed under the window.
I rub the back of my neck when she twists, looking unsure. “I can take the couch.”
It’s a last attempt to give her an out. The brain-altering kiss changed nothing. She’s still not the type of woman comfortable with casual sex and I’m still leaving.
Eliza smirks and threads her fingers through mine, a spark of determination lighting her eyes in the moonlit room. “No,” she says, leading me to the bed and giving me a little push. “Wait here.”
I swallow and give her a nervous nod.
My mouth is dry, tension tightening my chest. Left alone with my thoughts, it doesn’t take long for doubt to rear its ugly head. I don’t want to disappoint Eliza. Maybe this isn’t the best idea.
I’m overheating, tugging at my collar.
When the bathroom door opens and she appears in the doorway wearing one of my shirts I can bet all my assets the universe is working against me, because she is fucking irresistible. Leaning against the doorframe, the shirt’s hem barely covers her. She wets her lip, not moving an inch. She’s waiting for me. It takes me a moment to decipher her hesitancy.
I’ve been the one pulling back. Not asking for more.
Electricity surges through my body and I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from sounding too desperate. “Come here.”
She steps between my legs and I take her in, my gaze traveling from the scar on her ankle, up her slender legs, the shy sliver of skin between her breasts peeking between the unfastened top buttons, to her rosy cheekbones andburning eyes. I touch the back of her calves, caressing my way to the sensitive skin behind her knee and she twitches under my palms when I dig my fingers into her flesh.
“Are you real?” I whisper reverently.
The moonlight filtering into the room draws the curtains’ lace pattern on her skin. My fingers trail the delicate shadow tattoos under the shirt until I reach the soft fabric of her panties and she sucks in a breath.
“As real as you want me to be.” Eliza’s voice wobbles and she nicks the edge of her lip.
I follow the seam of the fabric, a map to the spot between her legs while she watches me with parted lips. Teasing her drains the patience I still possess, because all I want is to fuck her senseless. But my curiosity over everything Eliza is and does wins over and I press my thumb against the wet fabric of her panties and she gasps, the blush I’ve come to adore spreading up her skin.
I clear my throat. “Is this what you want?” I fucking hate how vulnerable I sound.
She strokes my cheek, lowering her head until our foreheads touch. Her lips skim mine, sending a wave of pleasure down to my toes.
That tender fucking kiss cracks me open and the hunger I’ve been keeping at bay swells out. I pour it into the next kiss, crashing my lips against hers, tugging and grazing, tasting until we’re both breathless.
“I want you,” she moans into my mouth and the words glide between my lungs like gasoline on fire. “Please let me feel you.”
People have asked a lot of things of me. Money, favors, expensive presents. Eliza only wants me to bare myself to her. Does she realize that after the surgery, it’s the hardest thing to give?
Her hands travel over my back, grabbing my shirt, but I don’t stop her, even though my heart is in my throat. She presses another heated kiss to my lips and leans back to tug the fabric, leaving me exposed, bracing for her reaction. Eyes wide and lips swollen, she drops the shirt to the floor. It’s not pity I see in her eyes. It’s appreciation and a hunger mirroring my own.
I give in a little more, tired of fighting the confusion she unleashes with her laugh, and the tightness under my navel from her firm and warm touches.
Weeks of flirting, teasing, and undeniable attraction have led to this exact moment and I want to make it unforgettable for her. I want to be burnt into a part of her brain and have her trembling long after I’m back in New York.
There’s too much space between us, my skin aching for her softness, and I pull her into my lap. Hands sneaking under the shirt, I drag my fingers up her inner thighs seeking her warmth, knuckles grazing the wet spot at her center. A tremor goes through her and I clasp one palm around her ass to steady her.
As much as it boosts my possessive streak seeing her in my shirt, I unbutton it slowly, grazing her skin as I go until a gentle tug unveils the beautiful woman straddling me.
“You’re torturing me,” Eliza says, the unmistakabletinge of frustration tugging at the corners of her mouth.
The sweet braid is next, silk through my fingers when I release her hair, letting the wavy copper curtain drape over her shoulders and chest. “I’m admiring the view. Can’t really blame me, when you look like this.”
She’s an absolute vision, flushed, eyes glazed, clad in the simple blue cotton panties.
My hands roam the delicate slope of her neck and she loses her patience with me, rolling her hips, rubbing over me in slow, torturous motions.
