He carried me to the bed, and lowered me onto the mattress—slow, controlled, as though he needed every second of the descent just to keep himself together.
But there was nothing gentle in the way he followed me down.
His body hovered above mine, heat rolling off him in waves, his breath brushing my cheek. My pulse thundered, wild and uneven, each inhale catching as the solid weight of him settled over me—hungry, and impossibly close.
His hand slid along my side until he caught the edge of my shirt and sports bra. He slowly lifted them over my head, and the moment the fabric cleared my face, he went still.
His eyes swept over me—my stomach, my breasts, then up to my face. Like the sight of me had punched the air out of him. Heat flared in his eyes, but there was something else there too. Something quiet and raw that made my pulse stutter.
Because for some reason I didn’t want to hide from him.
I wanted him to see me.
All of me.
His throat worked as he swallowed hard, his gaze darkening in a way that made my stomach flip.
“You’re beautiful…” he murmured.
The clothes fell from his hand to the floor, and then his fingers were at my hip. Steady, sure. No hesitation in what he was going to do. His touch traced the line of my waist, warm and deliberate, sending a shiver straight through my core.
My hands found him in return, skimming over the solid heat of his shoulders, down the hard ridges of his arms and the muscle at his back. I tugged at his shirt, lifting and pulling, until he helped me peel it away, dropping it to the growing heap at the side of the bed.
He lowered himself over me, skin to skin, and the breath punched out of me. Heat spread everywhere he touched, slow and consuming, and my arms wrapped around him instinctively.
He let out a quiet groan, the sound vibrating against my chest, and I felt it all the way down to my toes.
His hand slid lower still, tracing the line of my thigh, until his fingers reached the tender, desperate place where my body wasalready begging for him. He paused there—barely touching—just long enough for me to arch into his hand, a small, breathless sound slipping out of me before I could swallow it.
Dean’s reaction was immediate.
A low, guttural groan tore from his chest, deep and unrestrained—the kind a man makes when every last bit of control slips. His forehead dropped against my cheek for half a second, breath shaking, before something in him snapped entirely.
We both moved at once.
His hands were suddenly everywhere, frantic and reverent—hooking into my waistband, tugging fabric down my hips as I kicked free of my shorts. My fingers fumbled with the button of his pants, as desperate, clumsy, sounds came out of me. He let out another rough breath—almost a curse, almost a prayer—as he helped me push the rest of our clothes down, our movements fast, yet tangled, and hungry at the same time.
Clothes landed on the floor in forgotten piles.
Then he was over me again, skin to skin, heat to heat, his breath ragged against my mouth. His hand found me once more—this time without anything between us—and the moment his fingers pressed exactly where I ached for him, I gasped––my back arched sharply into his touch.
He whispered my name against my neck, like he’d never said anything sweeter.
And somehow—without asking, without searching—he pressed into me with the exact rhythm, the exact pressure that made my thoughts scatter.
Like he understood the boundaries of my body better than I did.
Like he’d been waiting to learn them since we first met.
And God… I wanted to hand him the road map.
I found myself touching him too—without thinking, without the armor I usually wore between myself and the world.
My palms slid over the heat of his chest, tracing the cut of muscle beneath smooth skin. His breath hitched the instant my nails skimmed the line of his abs. I couldn’t stop myself—I explored every inch I could reach, hungry for him. The more I touched, the more I wanted. Greed curled through me like a lit fuse, sparking hotter with every breath he dragged in.
Dean groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating through me as his mouth dragged along my jaw. His hips pressed closer, and the slow, deliberate roll of his body sent sparks exploding behind my eyes.
“I want you,” he murmured, voice rough against my ear?—
