“Weston.”
It’s a plea now. A surrender.
That’s all I’ve got left in me.
Chapter 4
Weston
Iliftherintomy arms.
She squeaks, then laughs, and the sound of it hits me right in the chest.
I set her down on the quilt and stand between her knees, taking her in. Hair mussed. Mouth kissed. Dress rucked up just enough to show the tops of her tights. Looking at me like I’m the thing she wants most in the world.
No man gets over a sight like that.
I take off my flannel slowly, because if I move too fast I might tear the damn thing. Her eyes track over my chest, then lower, then back up, and the hunger in that shy little look nearly drives me to my knees.
“You can look,” I tell her.
Her blush deepens. “I am looking.”
“Good.”
I reach for the hem of her dress, pausing. “Tell me to stop if you need it.”
“I won’t.”
I pull the dress up and over her head.
Hell.
She’s beautiful.
Soft pink bra. Full breasts straining against lace. Rounded belly. Curvy hips. Thick thighs in black tights that make a man want to drop to his knees and thank God personally.
She starts to fold in on herself, shy all of a sudden, and I stop that fast.
“No.”
Her eyes flick to mine.
“Don’t hide from me.” My voice comes out low, hard. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
She makes a broken little sound.
I drop to my knees in front of her and kiss the inside of one knee over her tights. Then the other. My hands spread slowly over her thighs, letting her feel exactly how much I like touching her.
“Weston,” she whispers.
“That’s right.”
I peel the tights down carefully. My hands skim her skin as I go, rough palms against softness, and every inch I uncover makes me hungrier.
By the time I get her down to pretty little underwear and that pink bra, I’m hanging on by my teeth.
I rise long enough to kiss her again and ease her farther back onto the bed, then let my hand drift over her breast.
