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"Turn around."
It's strange, spinning on my heels, but I like everything about the heat of his gaze.
He runs his fingers over the waistband of my panties. "Fucking beautiful, angel."
My breath catches in my throat.
"Look at me."
I turn back to him. I study every inch of him. The intensity in his dark eyes. The short, dark hair. Perfect for my hands. Perfect for pulling when his face is between my legs.
Where the hell did that come from?
Some dirty version of me is taking over.
One who demands what she wants.
One without nerves or hang-ups.
"Take off your bra," he commands.
I hesitate. But I need more of that look in his eyes—the one that says the sight of me sets him on fire.
I reach behind my back to unhook my bra then let it fall off my shoulders.
I'm topless for him.
On display for him.
He drinks me in like I'm cool water and he's a desert traveler. He savors every inch of me. Then his gaze fixes on my chest.
"Fuck, Kay. You have no idea how much I want those nipples in my mouth."
"Why don't you?"
"This first." He drags his hand over my side. His touch is soft. Slow. With utmost control.
He cups my breast with his hand. His thumb stops just short of my nipple.
It's a tease.
A delicious, agonizing tease.
He draws circles with his thumb, so, so close to where it needs to be. He does it until I'm panting. Until I'm clutching at his t-shirt.
Then he moves to my other breast and does it again.
Again.
Again.
"Brendon," I breathe. "Please."
"Take off your panties."
I slide them off my hips. Kick them from my ankles.
He drags his hand down my side, over my hip. "Turn around."
