Everywhere.
His lips move to mine again. His hands slide between us, unbuttoning and unzipping my jeans.
“Are you sure?” he says against my lips.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Positive.”
And then, he’s tugging them down my hips like he can’t wait anymore. My panties go with them, gliding over my sensitive skin.
Cool air hits the top of my thighs, then my knees, and then my ankles. He lifts my leg slightly, yanking off a shoe, then pulling my jeans over my foot.
He pauses before removing my other shoe, his eyes slowly roaming over me until they meet mine. “Be careful with your ankle.”
I nod, melting at the fact that even in the heat of the moment, he’s still concerned about my safety.
And then his gaze moves back down my body, and he freezes.
“Black lace,” he murmurs.
I blink, the words not making sense at first.
Then I realize what he’s staring at. I put on the panties he’d taken from my drawer.
“You going to steal them again?” I taunt.
He removes my shoe, then my jeans, before slipping my panties over my feet. He shoves them in his back pocket as he straightens. “I’m keeping these.”
He grips my legs, lifting me like I weigh nothing. His lips find mine as he sets my bare bottom onto the counter, standing between my legs.
He breaks the kiss, a feral smile curling his lips. “I can’t wait to taste you.”
His knees hit the floor, and his eyes lock with my hot, aching center.
I shiver from the desire etched onto his face. I’ve never had anyone look at me like this.
Normally, I’d be embarrassed.
But not with him.
“Daltyn,” I plead when seconds tick by.
“Every piece of you is mine, Peyton.” He spreads my legs wider, drinking me in. He releases a reverent sigh, then murmurs, “You’re a damn masterpiece, baby.”
His fingers trace over my inner thighs, making me weak from anticipation.
“Daltyn, please,” I whimper as his warm breath feathers over my skin.
“Fuck,” he whispers, parting me with his thumbs, then sliding a finger down my slick heat. “So wet for me.”
I’m dripping and swollen. Every nerve ending screams, wanting more.
He circles my clit lightly, making me tense with anticipation, before moving lower.
“So fucking beautiful,” he rasps, his eyes on me. “Just begging for my touch. For me to taste you.” His tongue swipes from my slit to my clit before he circles it.
My hands grip the counter, hanging on so tightly the edge cuts into my palms.
But I’m not aware of the discomfort. All I’m aware of is the way he’s making me feel.
