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She vowed to curse him. Her hand fisted the material of his shirt, warring with herself, as if she could avoid a direct question. “No.”

“Good girl,” he hummed approvingly as he unbuttoned her shirt.

Her heart raced. Slowly, he moved her toward the bed until the back of her legs hit the bed frame. The rational part of her brain told her to leave, but she couldn’t say it because it wasn’t true. She wanted to stay here. To stay with him.

He kissed her with determination, and she was begging the spirits some of the truth elixir would touch his tongue. Unfortunately, any trace amounts she might have left would not be enough.

Not breaking the kiss, he pushed her shirt off her shoulders. His large hands traveled across her naked skin, moving along her rib cage as if he was taking inventory.

She flinched as cool air brushed against her scar. He unfastened the pin that held his ascot in place, took it off, and wrapped the silky material around her arm.

“That okay?” he asked, and when she gave a nod, he undid the buttons of her skirt and let it fall to the floor.

He had never seen her this naked before, and she was acutely aware of that as he stood before her, fully clothed, letting his eyes wander down her body.

“Lie on the bed for me,” he instructed.

“Dawson…I really should…” She swallowed, searching for the right words. She should go. But she didn’t want to.

His hand wrapped gently around the back of her neck. “Do you want to be good for me?”

Yes. The answer was ready on her tongue. Heat rose in her as she fought against the word trying to escape her lips, but when his strong hands traveled up her spine and he placed kisses along her neck and down to her shoulder, she admitted defeat.

“Yes,” she finally responded, and the relief from the truth was instant.

He smirked with satisfaction. “I thought so.”

“I will murder you.”

“I’m counting on it.” Then he shoved her onto the bed, and before she could get her bearings, he grabbed her by her ankles and yanked her closer.

He pulled down her underwear and tossed them aside. And she let him because she couldn’t deny that she wanted this. At least his questions would stop.

“You’re beautiful,” he said as he stood above her, and she couldn’t wait to touch him. To feel his skin against hers.

He stepped between her legs. Using just his knee, inch by inch, he pushed them apart and her breath became ragged with anticipation.

He held her there for a moment. Watching her. Then he sank to his knees. He brought his face between her legs, and when his tongue teased the length of her, every part of her lit on fire.

At first, his tongue lightly danced over her, flicking and teasing, and then he pressed harder, firmer, drawing circles.

She arched against him, chasing any additional friction he would give. His hands held her by her hips, and he took his time. She wanted him so much, it hurt. He groaned against her in approval.

When he pushed his fingers inside her while he continued to lick her, she went over the edge.

He waited for the last tremors to shudder through her, then he rose and stood up tall, wiping his mouth with a wicked grin of satisfaction on his face.

Her heartbeat thrummed in her ears as she watched him take off his clothes. She had never seen him naked either. Not fully. She watched as the fabric of his crisp white shirt gave way to skin marred with scars and tattoos. Scars she had already traced with her fingers and memorized.

Slowly he moved over her, pressing her body into the mattress with his. His skin was hot against hers.

His tongue trailed her neck, and her hands went to his flexed triceps as they held him upright. It felt forbidden to touch him. All of this felt like sin.

“Did you like the way I kissed you in the foyer?”

“Yes.” The answer was out before she could stop it. “No more questions.”

His chest rumbled with a chuckle. “I still have a few.”