Page 147 of Smoke and Glitter

"Also, if you ask whether I'm sure every forty-five seconds, I'm leaving."

His mouth twitches. "That's oddly specific."

"Sam."

"Got it."

I raise my arms and he pulls the dress over my head, dropping it beside us. His hands return to my waist immediately, but he doesn't drag me closer. He looks slowly, his gaze traveling down my body without pretending it isn't, and there is something almost unbearable about standing there while he takes his time. Months ago I would have filled the silence with a joke just to take some of the weight out of being wanted that openly.

This time, I let him look.

When his eyes come back to mine, I hook my fingers beneath the hem of his T-shirt and pull it over his head. He barely gets his arms free before I toss it somewhere behind him.

Sam glances toward the sound. "Don't."

"I wasn't going to say anything."

"You were going to say something."

"I liked that shirt."

I shove it from his shoulders, and the humor drains out of me the moment my palms meet his bare chest.

This body is familiar in a way that reaches deeper than memory. The breadth of him beneath my hands, the hard line of his shoulders, the shift of muscle when I slide my palms down his sides. I kiss below his collarbone and feel the exact moment his breathing catches, then move to the spot near his neck that has always betrayed him.

"Autumn."

I smile against his skin and kiss it again. His hands tighten on my hips.

"You're enjoying this."

"Immensely."

Sam's hand slides behind my thigh, and a second later I'm sitting on the edge of the bed with him between my knees. He kisses me once, hard, then lowers himself. He settles between my thighs, broad shoulders pushing them wider, his hands moving from my ankles upward slowly enough that I feel every inch of the path. By the time his fingers reach the inside of my knees, I'm already shifting toward him.

"Sam."

His eyes lift to mine.

"You are taking your time."

"I've been thinking about this for months. I'm allowed a minute."

The admission sends another rush of heat through me, his thumbs moving higher.

"So have I."

Something darkens in his expression. "Tell me."

I catch the edge of the mattress in both hands. "I thought about your hands."

His fingers slide beneath the last barrier between us.

"My hands."

"And your mouth."

His jaw tightens.