Her breath breaks.
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m excited.”
I lower my mouth to her ear. “That is a prettier word for it.”
She laughs, breathless and small, and the sound cuts through me.
I pull the dress down slowly, watching her face for fear. I find nerves, heat, and a trust that makes my chest feel too tight.
The black fabric falls to the floor.
Natalie stands in front of me in delicate underwear, soft curves, flushed skin, and wide eyes.
“You’re gorgeous,” I say, voice rough. “Every inch of you.”
Her lips part.
“Jordan.”
“I mean it.” I trail my fingers over her waist, slow enough to make her tremble. “Soft here.” My hand moves to her hip. “Perfect here.” My thumb brushes the edge of her bra. “And all of it mine.”
Her breath catches.
I lift her and carry her to the bed. She gasps, arms locking around my neck.
“I can walk.”
“I know.”
My answer pleases her. I see it before she tries to hide it.
I set her down on the bed and strip off my jacket, then my tie. Her gaze follows every movement. When I open the buttons of my shirt, her breathing changes.
“Look all you want,” I say.
Her blush burns brighter. “I was briefly observing.”
“You can do more than observe.”
I take her hand and bring it to my bare chest. “Touch me.”
She does, softly at first, fingertips tracing muscle, scars, and ink. Then her palm flattens, and I feel her confidence grow by a fraction.
“Good,” I say.
Her thighs shift together.
I see that too.
I kneel on the bed and cover her body with mine, careful with my weight. She opens for me naturally, making room, and the first feel of her beneath me nearly ends every decent intention I have.
I kiss her mouth, her jaw, her throat. I taste the flutter of her pulse. My hand slides down her side, over her waist, to her hip, and she arches like she is learning her own body at the same time I am.
Nobody has touched her like this.
I will.
