Page 107 of My Real Love Affair

I responded with equal fervor, my fingers working at the belt of his robe. He helped me, shrugging out of it while I did the same with mine. And then there was nothing between us but skin and want and the sound of our breathing.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, his eyes roaming over me in a way that made me feel like the only woman in the world. “So fucking beautiful.”

I had always been self-conscious about my body. I knew it was just a thing for most women, no matter if they were model thin or anywhere else along the spectrum. I could look at myself and see twenty areas that could be better.

But the way Austin looked at me, I didn’t feel like he was seeing any of that. He was looking at me like I was perfect exactly as I was.

“Bed,” I managed. “We should—please.”

I was only a little embarrassed I was begging the man to take me to bed. I needed him. And that bed looked like the perfect place to make that happen.

“Yes.” He took my hand and led me to the bedroom.

I climbed onto the bed and felt a sudden case of nerves as he stood over me. I moved to roll away and pull the blankets down so I could hide under the sheets, but he stopped me.

He knelt on the edge of the bed. I stared at his gorgeous body. He was all hard muscle and tanned skin. It was only spring, but he looked like he had been somewhere tropical soaking up the son. There was hair smattered across his chest with a thin trail running down that flat stomach and lower. My eyes followed that happy trail and froze.

Holy shit. He was perfect. And quite large. And so hard.

My eyes met his again. He was smirking, questioning me. The man had no shame.

That’s how I wanted to be. I wanted to be naked and proud.

So, I was.

I smiled up at him and crooked my finger at him.

He dropped over me, lying on his side with one hairy leg thrown over my knees and his face nuzzled against my neck. He kissed and sucked at the sensitive flesh there.

“Tell me what you like,” he murmured against my neck. “I want to make this good for you.”

“You are.” I gasped as his mouth found my collarbone. “This is perfect.”

He smiled against my skin. “We’re just getting started.”

His lips traveled lower. I arched into his touch, my fingers threading through his hair. He took his time, learning my body like he was memorizing a map. Finding the places that made me gasp, that made me moan, that made me forget my own name.

“Austin,” I breathed.

His name became a prayer, a plea, a promise all at once. Every inch of my skin felt electric under his touch, like he was tracing constellations across my body and I was the sky he was mapping.

His mouth found my breast and I nearly came off the bed. The way he took his time all slow, reverent, like he was worshipping me, had me threading my fingers through his damp hair and holding on for dear life. When he sucked gently, my back arched instinctively, offering myself to him completely.

“You taste like citrus,” he murmured against my skin, his breath hot and sending shivers straight through me. “Like summer. Like mine.”

The possessiveness in his voice should have scared me. Instead, it made me bolder. Made me reach down and wrap my fingers around him, feeling him pulse in my hand. He groaned against my collarbone, the sound vibrating through my entire body.

“Fuck, Melody. Your hands.” His hips pushed into my touch instinctively. “So good. Too good.”

I loved this power, knowing I could reduce this man who had everything to incoherent sounds and desperate movements. When I stroked him slowly, his whole body trembled.

But Austin wasn’t a man to let someone else drive for long. He shifted lower, his mouth blazing a trail down my stomach, his stubble creating the most delicious friction. When he settled between my thighs, looking up at me with those dark eyes, I stopped breathing entirely.

“Tell me,” he said, his breath ghosting over sensitive skin. “Tell me you want this.”

“I want this,” I managed, my voice barely above a whisper. “I want you.”

His smile was wicked and tender all at once. Then his mouth was on me and I forgot how to think, how to speak, how todo anything but feel. He took his time learning what made me gasp and moan. When he added his fingers—first one, then two, curling just right—I saw actual stars behind my closed eyelids.