“Just so you know, I’d hate you less if you took off your clothes.”
“Bossy.”
“I can be, if that’s what you like,” she says.
I pull her away from the wall, keeping her in my hold. I can’t stop looking at her; at her flushed cheeks. At her hair, tousled and wild. She’s the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen, and my heart skips a goddamn beat.
“Should we test your hating theory?” I walk us down the hall and kick open the door to her bedroom, remembering the way from the last time I was here, and set her on the bed. Before she has a chance to get comfortable, I tug on her legs, dragging her to the edge of the mattress. A pillow goes flying. The comforter gets tangled around her ankles, and I toss it into a far-off corner. “I wonder how wet you are.”
“Get on your knees and find out.”
“With pleasure, sweetheart, but I need to do something first.”
“You do?” She frowns. Irritation pulls at the corner of her mouth, and I touch the droop of her lips with my thumb. “And what’s that?”
“I can’t do this while we’re being watched.” I reach past her, finding the stuffed dinosaur on the opposite side of the bed. I turn him face down and give his head a pat. “There. Now Reginald won’t be traumatized.”
“It’s a sentient object, Sebastian.”
“You’ve clearly never seenToy Story. I’m not taking any chances. Now.” I drop to the rug, my hands on her knees and nudging her legs wide open. “Where were we?”
“There.” Quincy moans, a throaty, sexy noise that speeds out of her when I press my thumbs into the soft skin of thighs. “We were right there.”
“Can I—” I swallow. I take a deep breath and adjust my hard cock pressing against the zipper of my jeans. Her shorts—those infuriating shorts that have had me staring at her all night—are almost bunched at her waist, and I can see the line of her underwear underneath the denim. They look light blue, the exact shade of the sky on a cloudless summer day, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to go outside without getting hard again. “Please?”
“Yes.” A soft laugh. The bump of her knee against my palm. Legs opening wider and her hand on her shorts, pulling the zipper down in a torturous drag that makes me want to scream at her to hurry up, but also to slow down so I can savor every second of this. “I’d like that.”
I’m already struggling. I’m walking a tightrope and fighting for my life. Disaster is imminent when she guides my fingers and helps me unfasten the single silver button that’s holding my sanity together.
She must be trying to kill me when she lifts her hips. I’m certain of it when she works the shorts down her thighs, leaving behind the underwear that has an obnoxiously cute bow. I touch the waistband, snapping it against her skin, the noise a reminder that this striptease has been one-sided. An entirely unfair powerimbalance I fix by reaching for the hem of my shirt. By pulling it over my head and leaving it fuck knows where.
“Oh,” she murmurs, wide eyes raking over the muscles I spend hours building in the gym. She pays careful attention to each part of my torso: My broad shoulders. My biceps and abs. I flex—just a little—to show her how strong I really am. Her assessment is greedy, full of self-indulgence that makes my cock ache. “Wow.”
The word alone rattles me.
Heaven help me when she actually touches me.
“Come here.” I help her sit up. I cup her face with both hands and kiss her again. My tongue brushes against hers, and she surprises me with sharp teeth that sink into my bottom lip. My fingers tangle in her hair, struggling to focus when her nails drag down my back. “What do you like, Quincy?”
“I don’t know.” Her palms are hot on my skin. Roaming, teasing. My complete undoing. “It’s been months … years, actually, since I—” A beat of embarrassed silence. Reluctant acceptance and understanding I’m not going to make fun of her for whatever she’s about to say. “And most of the men I’ve been with haven’t been able to make me—”
“Come?”
“I have to finish on my own.”
“We’re scientists. We research to determine results. We’ll figure it out.”
“And if we don’t?”
“We’ll try again. I’m a very patient man.”
“I don’t have any condoms.”
“I don’t need to fuck you to make you come.” I sit back on my heels. “Take off your shirt. I want to see you.”
There’s no hesitation, only swift action. She tugs off her top, leaving her in a blue bra made of lace that matches her underwear.I bite my knuckles, whimpering when she plays with the straps. I whine when she moves her hands to her breasts and squeezes them together.
I want to fuck her there. I want to fuck her everywhere, but there, specifically, is high on the list.
