“Fair’s fair, Claire.”
“Yours was…” She exhales, and the sound drags over my skin. “Very specific. And graphic. And now permanently burned into my brain, so thanks for that.”
“You’re welcome.” I let my gaze move over her slowly enough that she feels it.
After a long moment, she says, “Ah, fuck it. Why not, right?”
“Hell yeah.” I’m grinning like a damn fool.
“I keep imagining myself…” She stops, then gives a small, embarrassed shake of her head. “No. Forget it.”
“Not a chance.” My voice drops. “Finish the sentence.”
She is stunning when she’s all shy. Cheeks flushed, eyes bright, and her teeth pushing down into her lower lip. For a second, I think she’ll retreat, but then she lifts her chin.
“Dancing for you,” she says. “Seeing how long you’d last before that composure you’re clinging to finally breaks.”
Every nerve in my body fires at once, my cock throbbing, and I know: one touch, and I’ll detonate.
The cabin goes quiet around the beat of my pulse.
“Well, no, I didn’t mean… It was just a thought.” She waves one hand, already backing away from the thing she just set loose between us. “Forget I said?—”
I’m already moving. Remote from the coffee table, phone connected to the speaker, and one quick scroll until I find the right track, a dark, grinding beat threaded with country grit and a deep male vocal that rolls through the cabin. The bass hits the floorboards, the fire snaps behind her, and Claire stands frozen in the middle of the room, realizing exactly what I’m doing.
I hurl myself down into the center of the couch, spread my thighs, rest my arms along the back, and settle in like a man prepared to be ruined. My cock is like stone, my blood runninghot, and somehow I keep my grin easy because she insisted she’d break my composure.
She can work for it. I hold her gaze, letting the music fill the space between us. “Show me, sunshine.”
Her lips part.
I tilt my head. “Unless you only wanted to be brave when I wasn’t watching.”
Her expression changes instantly, her chin rising, and she takes a step toward me, the flames casting her silhouette in gold, and then she turns her back to me.
For a second, she’s still. Just her shoulders and the curve of her spine visible in the firelight, the robe hanging from her frame. Then the beat drops and she moves.
Slow. Shy, almost. Her hips sway, finding the rhythm, her shoulders rolling with a tentative grace that tells me she’s testing herself as much as she’s testing me. One hand trails up her thigh, gathering the robe’s hem, lifting it halfway, revealing more bare skin, then she drops it.
She twists around, faces me, and whatever shyness existed there has burned away, replaced by a fire in her eyes that I’ve never seen. She moves closer, hips rolling, the robe shifting with each step, falling off one shoulder, exposing the line of her neck and the pale curve beneath. She pushes it back, lets it fall again.
I grip the couch.
She’s losing herself to the music, swaying in front of me, the firelight turning her skin to honey, and the robe is slipping from both shoulders now, revealing collarbones, the tops of her breasts.
She spins away again, facing the fire, and the robe slides down her back, baring her shoulder blades, the notches of her spine. She gathers it at her waist and holds it there, barely, the fabric pooled at the small of her back, and she’s moving to the beat, rolling her hips in slow, devastating circles.
I’m not breathing. My fists are locked on the couch cushions. My cock is in agonizing pain against my pants, and every muscle in my body grows rigid with the effort of staying seated.
She glances over her shoulder, and the smirk she gives me is a declaration of war.
Then she’s facing the fire again, and the robe opens. I can’t see what she’s doing from behind, but I can hear a small gasp as her hand lowers down her body, a soft moan that cuts through the music and goes through me like a blade. Her head falls back. Her shoulders arch. Another moan, longer, rougher, and her hips are moving and she’s touching herself, and I’m going to rip this couch apart with my bare hands.
I’m on my feet instantly, shirt over my head. Pants shoved down, boxers with them, and the relief of the pressure releasing is instant and insufficient because what I need isn’t freedom from fabric. I’ve been cravingher.
I cross the space between us, and when I press against her, my cock nestled into her lower back, my mouth at her ear. “Here, let me help you with that,” I murmur.
Her body jolts but melts just as quickly, while my gaze dips down her body, taking in those spectacular full breasts, how tight her dark pink nipples are, how her hand is working the fire between her thighs.
