“Me. I’m in charge.” Her chin lifts.
“That’s right. You’re the boss of a forty-three-year-old man who can’t think straight when you’re close. Keep that in mind if I sound too pushy. You can always tell me to stop, slow down, do it differently. We’re here to find what you like.”
That tiny twitch at her lips blooms into a full grin. She softens in my arms, her shoulders drop against my chest. After a minute, her eyes climb to mine, full of something that looks a lot like gratitude.
She reaches behind her back, unhooks the bra herself, and lets it fall to the floor. Her right hand dips into my pocket for the list. “I’m ready to be the teacher’s pet.”
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”
Her breasts are heavy and high, obscene in my hands. I hold them up and tend to each one thoroughly. There’s more than one hand can manage, but I try anyway. My private challenge. One I’ll lose every time, and enjoy every second.
I reach for the bow fastening her skirt, and tug hard. It slips loose, and to my utter disappointment, there’s a damn knot underneath. I scowl at it. “Well, that was anticlimactic.”
Mia laughs her delicious, melodic laugh, and suddenly,I’m not so mad at the annoying knot anymore. It won’t give, so I drop to my knees and pull it apart with my teeth. She gasps, the giggle dying an early death, caught in her throat.
“Pres, wait, let me shut the curtains.”
“No,” I say point-blank, sitting back on my heels and staring up at her. “I have my own hard limits, Mia, and this is one. You don't hide from me. Not your thoughts. Not your feelings. And sure as hell not your body.”
I run my hands over every inch of skin I can reach. “I need honesty. And I crave your body. I love it. Can’t you see that? These curves haunt me. From the minute you walked into my house, I knew I’d be tempted for as long as we shared air. Knew it would be torture, being near you and not touching you.”
I work on what’s left of the knot. It’s almost loose, but I hold it in place. One pull, and the skirt falls. “Now that I have you, I won’t accept less than all of you. I want to worship you in daylight. Will you let me?”
“You might as well go ahead and ask for my soul, bank details, and pin number too. I’ll give them all.”
She pulls the strip of fabric herself. The skirt drops to her feet, leaving her bare to me.
I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be: on my knees, ready to revere her body and put her on the pedestal she deserves. I drink her in. When I reach her face, her eyes are closed again. Not tense. Not pained. But her nerves are still getting the best of her. And they’re not invited to this party.
“Baby, look at me.”
Mia inhales deep, then exhales even deeper. She gives her shoulders a little shake. I love how hard she’s trying toshed the protective shell she’s used to wearing. To let herself be. Love how brave she is, pushing past insecurities that have probably lived in her skin for years.
But she’s here. Now. Fighting to quiet her thoughts. Fighting to stay with me in this moment. To let the light touch every part of her without flinching.
“It’s not easy, you know.” She trembles a little.
“I’ll make it worth it. I’ll take your mind somewhere else. That is, if you can read while I worship this perfect body?”
“Oh, shut up, Preston.” The bite in her voice is undercut by the sly curve at the corner of her lips.
“As soon as you start talking, baby.”
“No.”
My brows lift. The little brat.
“Is that how you talk to your professor?”
“I want to see you too. Strip, and I’ll read every word in here.” She waves the folded paper like a gauntlet.
Fair is fair. I tackle the first button of my shirt when she stops me with her palm.
“Actually… I want to do it. If you don’t mind.” She pulls me by the hand, and I stand to follow her. We enter the bedroom, and she lays the promised list on the bedside table.
“The only thing I mind is not doing what you want. Ask, and it’s yours.” I kiss her, slow and deep. Her hands sweep over my back, softer than anything I deserve. “I’m yours,” I say against her mouth. “Yours to touch. Yours to use. To do whatever you want.” I guide her fingers to the next button.
With each one she opens, her touch grows bolder. Her hands travel across my chest and stomach, nails grazing, aslow torment, then they climb my shoulders to slip my shirt off.
