My stomach leaps.
He looks at me, waiting, not saying another word.
I get on the bed, lie back, and wait for any other order he wants to give me. Approval flicks across his gaze, and with his eyes on me, he reaches for his belt and unfastens it. The black leatherwhooshesas he pulls it free from the loops of his pants, dropping it to the floor with a louder thump than the towel.
His hands grip the hem of his shirt, and he lifts it over his head, tossing it aside. I’ve felt every inch of that hard chest pressed flush against me, but seeing it—chiseled abs, pecs for days, a glorious expanse of tanned skin I want to trace with my tongue—it’s suddenly almost impossible to breathe.
“Cold?”
My eyes snap to his face, and I root around for a response. “Huh?”
Yikes.
This man’s chest has been quietly killing off brain cells. Oh well. If that’s how they go, that’s how they go.
His lips twitch. “Are you cold?” He gives my chest a pointed glance.
I look down.
Pebbled nipples.
Right.
“Um. No. That’s, uh, not the reason for those.” I almost cover myself. The heat in his gaze convinces me to keep my arms at my sides.
“Hmm,” he says coolly before derailing my mind again when he undoes his flies and pushes his trousers down his legs.
There could be a world-ending flaming asteroid hurtling down on my head, and you couldn’t pay me to look away from this.
“Sweetheart?”
I chew on my lip, eyes fixed on the long, thick cock I’m itching to touch. I’ve felt those ridges against my palm. Now I want to taste those veins with the tip of my tongue. “Yeah?”
His fingers catch my chin, tilting my head up and breaking my stare. “I’m going to need you to stop staring and biting your lip like that before I blow my load right over your gorgeous tits.”
I’m briefly stunned by his openness. Then… strangely aroused by it? I guess sometimes you don’t know what you like until you hear someone say it.
“Would that be such a bad thing?” I ask tentatively.
He squeezes his eyes shut and massages his temples, muttering what can only be a prayer for divine intervention to get through this in one piece, which makes me smile.
“I was going to tie your wrists to this bed with my belt and fuck you until you came screaming around my cock.”
All trace of my amusement evaporates. My mouth hangs open, stunned by the casual ease with which he admits what he wants to do to me.
What does a person say tothat?
But my body? My lower extremities? That’s lighting up like slot machines hitting a jackpot in Vegas.
Murph eventually takes pity on me, a smile creasing the corners of his eyes. With his thumb, he nudges my gaping mouth shut, presses a far too brief kiss on it, and sinks onto the bed beside me instead of falling on top of me and fucking me the way I need him to.
He continues in the same calm tone, staring across the room toward my window with the drapes shut, “But I can’t do that to you, and obviously Ben would hear you screaming at me to fuck you harder.”
I don’t say a word. I just close my eyes. If I open my mouth, I’ll say something that will make me a truly terrible mother.
I don’t care.
Murph is silent.
