She pushed his shirt up and over his head, revealing the body she'd been imagining for weeks. He was beautiful in a purely masculine way. Broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, chest and arms sculpted by years of physical work rather than gym sessions. A thin line of hair disappeared into the waistband of his jeans, and she followed it with her fingers until he groaned and caught her wrist.
"Careful, or this will be over before we get to the good part."
"What's the good part?"
"Let me show you."
He lifted her easily, settling her across his lap so she was straddling him, the heat of his arousal pressing against her through their clothes. The position made her feel exposed and powerful at the same time. She could see the way his breathing changed when she rocked her hips, could feel how much he wanted her in the way his hands tightened on her waist.
Could feel how hard he was beneath her, thick and ready, separated only by thin layers of fabric.
"This okay?" he asked, giving her a chance to change her mind even though she could see the effort it was costing him.
"More than okay."
He kissed her again, deeper this time, while his hands slid up under her tank top to trace the curve of her ribs. When his thumbs brushed the underside of her breasts, she broke the kiss.
"Please," she said, not even sure what she was asking for.
"I've got you. Just let me take care of you."
His hands moved higher, palming her breasts, and she arched into the touch with a sound that would have embarrassed her with anyone else. But this was Dustin, who looked at her like she was everything he'd ever wanted, and nothing had ever felt better than being in his arms while he touched her.
She rocked against him, seeking more contact, more friction, more of the building pressure that was making it hard to think about anything except the way he was making her feel. His hands stilled on her breasts, and when she looked at him, his eyes were molten.
"If you keep doing that, I'm going to lose what's left of my self-control."
"Maybe I want you to lose control."
"Vanessa..." Her name was a warning and a prayer all at once.
"I'm not fragile, Dustin. I won't break."
Heat flared in his eyes. Possession and desire and depth that made her heart stutter. "No, you won't. But I might."
He stood up with her still in his arms, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her down the hall toward her bedroom. Every step sent delicious friction through her body, the ridge of his erection pressing against her core through their clothes, and by the time he set her down beside her bed, she was trembling with need.
Already wet. Already aching. Already half out of her mind wanting him.
"You sure about this?" he asked, hands framing her face with a gentleness that contrasted with the hunger in his eyes.
She answered by pulling her tank top over her head and letting it fall to the floor. His gaze dropped to her breasts, and she watched his jaw clench with the effort of holding himself in check.
"Beautiful," he breathed, reaching out to trace the curve of one breast with his finger. "So damn beautiful."
His touch was feather-light, teasing, and she wanted more. Needed more.
"Touch me properly," she said. "Please."
He made a sound low in his throat and cupped both breasts in his hands, thumbs circling her nipples until they were hard and aching. Then he leaned down and took one into his mouth, and she cried out at the sensation.
Hot. Wet.
He lavished attention on her breasts until her knees went weak, then he eased her shorts down her hips, taking her panties with them. When she stood naked before him, he took a step back to look at her, and the expression on his face made her feel like the most desirable woman in the world.
"Your turn," she said, hands going to the button of his jeans.
He helped her undress him, and when he stepped out of his jeans and boxer briefs, she stared. He was thick and hard and beautiful, and she wanted to taste him, wanted to feel the weight of him in her hands, wanted him inside her so badly it made her shake.
