“Come with me,” I breathed.
His eyes were glassy with restraint. “Elle—”
“Comewith me.”
And he did.
He followed me like I’d cast a spell over him—like nothing else existed butus.
Through the trees, into the hush of green and gold.
His hand in mine.
Our breaths ragged.
Hearts pounding.
I pulled off my jacket and threw it to the ground. He slipped his own coat. I reached for my tank top and gripped the edges, before pulling it loose.
His expression burned.
“Are you sure?”
I nodded. “Yes. I’m sure.”
My hands trembled slightly as I pulled off my shirt, the air cool against suddenly bare skin. I felt exposed—vulnerable.
Phoenix stepped closer, eyes locked on mine, like he couldn’t believe I was real.
He kissed me again—soft, reverent—smiling like he was in awe.
I reached for his shirt. He let me. Lifted his arms. I peeled it off slowly.
His body was lean, hard, warm beneath my fingers.
I traced his abdomen—light, tentative touches—feeling the muscles jump beneath my fingertips. He shivered.
His hands slid down, over my skin, reverent and slow, like he needed to memorize every inch.
Then he dropped to his knees.
He looked up at me, breath shallow, waiting. Asking.
I nodded.
His fingers found the waistband of my pants. Gently, he began to pull them down, inch by inch, watching me like I might vanish.
His breath rasped over my skin. His hands hovered at the lace—my last layer.
I trembled, nerves and want twisting together like a live wire.
My breath caught. My whole body trembled—nerves and want tangled tight in my chest.
He looked up at me, eyes dark with restraint. “We don’t have to.”
“I know,” I whispered. “But I want to.”
His touch was reverent—like I was something sacred.
