Shit. He saw right through me.
He guided her toward the oak-framed mirror in the corner of the room, positioning her in front of it. His hands rested heavily on her hips as he watched her reflection.
“Look,” he said softly.
Heather met her own gaze as Flynn’s hands slid up her sides, lifting her shirt completely; cool air kissed her skin and goosebumps erupted along her bare flesh. In the mirror, she watched his eyes trace every inch of her, unapologetically.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured into her hair.
His fingertips grazed down her arms until they reached the delicate dove gray lace of her bra.
Heather gasped quietly as Flynn’s fingers slipped between lace and skin, skimming the curve of her breast, then pausing just long enough for her to ache for more of his touch.
She leaned back into him, reveling in the way his restraint frayed. His body was hard behind her, firmly pressed to her spine.
Holy shit.
His fingers traced the bruise again, but this time, not as carefully.
It wasclaiming.
“Don’t look away,” he instructed, voice thick with need.
Heather’s pulse roared in her ears, then—nothing.
Flynn’s hands dropped to his sides, and the loss of sensation was brutal.
“What—” she breathed.
“Take off your bra.”
Heather swallowed. “Flynn, please. Touch me—”
His voice dropped roughly. “Take it off, mo chridhe.”
In the mirror, she watched herself reach back as her fingers found the clasp. With a soft click, the lace loosened as she slipped the bra from her shoulders.
Flynn didn’t even flinch; his restraint was almost unbearable. It was written all over his face through his tight jaw and locked shoulders. His eyes were dark and intent, devouring every inch of her as the lace slid down her arms and fell to the floor at their feet.
“Good,” he praised.
The word landed low in her belly.
Heather lifted her chin, meeting his gaze in the glass. Her pale, freckled skin flushed under his stare, and her nipples tightened both in the cool air, and under the heat of his undivided attention.
Flynn’s hands flexed at his sides.
Once.
Twice.
“Touch them.” he said quietly.
Her breath caught. “Flynn—”
“Slow,” he warned. “for me.”
So she did.
