All I can do is admire how damn beautiful she is, the dim light in the room casting shadows over her.
“Can I?” she murmurs, reaching for the hem of my shirt.
I swallow hard. “Yes.”
She tugs the t-shirt over my head before tossing it onto the floor. As she drinks me in, I can’t help but feel exposed.
I like to stay in shape, but I’m not in my twenties anymore. Not like Joshua.
But as her eyes trace over me, all I see is desire.
Her hands glide over my chest in appreciation. She isn’t pawing at me like this is some frantic thing we have to finish before we come to our senses. She’s exploring. Mapping. Memorizing my body with quiet focus. She doesn’t skip anything. Doesn’t rush past imperfections.
She lingers.
And that’s what makes this dangerous.
Her hands slide lower, tracing the ridges of my abs. Slow. Intentional. She’s watching my face as she does it, like she’s studying my reaction. Cataloguing the subtle shifts — my jaw tightening, my breath growingheavier, the way my stomach contracts under her fingertips.
Her touch isn’t just turning me on.
It’s waking me up.
For years I’ve existed in muted tones. Grief dulls everything. Even pleasure.
But this?
This is color flooding back in.
“Can I?” she asks again, teasing the waistband of my sweatpants.
“Yes.”
She peppers kisses along my collarbone and down my chest as her fingers disappear into my pants, each swipe causing the muscles in my body to tighten. When she brushes against the tip of my erection, I groan.
“Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it?” Rowan croons into the crook of my neck. “This is what you get for teasing me.”
“But I made it worth it for you? Didn’t I?”
“You did.” She brings her lips to mine. “Now I plan on returning the favor.”
I expect for her to finally push my pants down. Or at least grab my cock.
Instead, she steps back, putting space between us.
Frustration builds, making me wild with need. Making me want to throw her onto the bed and fuck her until the entire town knows she’s mine and only mine.
With her eyes trained on me, she reaches for the bottom of her dress and pulls it over her head before unclasping her bra, dropping it to the floor.
My breathing increases as I sweep my appreciative gaze over her body. She’s beautiful in a way that hits meharder than I expected. Sure, her curves are incredible, her skin soft. But what has me desperate to drown in her and never come up for air is her strength. In the way she stands. In the way she doesn’t flinch under my gaze.
And just like she took her time running her hands along my body, I take my time drinking her in, too. Her dark waves falling gently over her shoulders. Her soft skin inviting me to feel her. Her intricate tattoo blooming over her chest, a stunning design of thorns and roses.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” I exhale, threading my fingers in her hair and covering her mouth with mine.
She moans into me, our tongues tangling as she teases my waistband again. I’m on the verge of pushing my sweatpants down myself, forcing her to her knees, and making her suck me off.
But before I can bring that fantasy to fruition, she finally pushes them down my legs.
