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This was different, though. Because Joseph was watching me like a starving man at a feast, and I was still covered by my jeans and bra.
He began to touch me with shockingly gentle hands, his slow, reverent movements in contrast to how he’d been kissing me so roughly. His fingertips skimmed around my waist before coming up behind my back to unhook my simple black bra. He slid the straps down my arms, his eyes fixed on my chest as he slowly revealed my breasts. His jaw clenched. I got the feeling he was holding himself back, savoring the sight of me instead of pinning me down and kissing me the way he had last night.
I shivered as cool air caressed my heated skin, and my nipples pebbled to hard peaks. He ran his knuckles over the needy buds. I gasped and arched into his touch, craving more.
A rumbling sound of pleasure left his chest, and he cupped my breasts fully, his big hands completely encompassing them. His calloused palms teased against my nipples as he learned the weight and shape of my breasts, still touching me with aching care.
“Joseph, please.” I needed more. I leaned into him and clutched at his upper arms.
He withdrew, and I whined my protest.
“Shhh,” he urged. “I’m not finished.”
His long fingers trailed down my abdomen, teasing along the top of my jeans before he deftly freed the button at the front. He pulled down the zipper in a torturously slow motion, but I didn’t beg for him to go faster. I craved more contact, but the way he studied me with such rapt fascination was addictive.
He finally hooked his thumbs through the top of my jeans and my panties, and he pulled them down my legs. He dropped to his knees before me, his eyes riveted on my sex as I compliantly stepped out of my jeans and flats.
He simply stared for several seconds. I shifted on my feet, but not out of anxiety; it was all I could do to stop myself from rocking my hips toward his lips in wanton invitation.
He leaned in, close enough that his hot breath teased across my clit. Without thinking, I spread my legs, craving his touch. He pressed a soft, sweet kiss just above my clit.
“Beautiful.” The word vibrated against my flesh as his lips brushed my skin.
“Please,” I begged again.
He shot me a wicked grin, his eyes lifting to meet mine. “You want me to kiss your pretty pussy, angel?”
Angel. He’d called me that once before. It only made me feel more worshipped, and I fell deeper into his thrall, intoxicated by his reverence for me.
I licked my lips. I did want him to put his mouth on me, but there was something I craved even more.
“I want to see you too.”
I grasped his arms and guided him back to his feet. He allowed me to direct his movements; he was far too strong for me to physically force him to do anything he didn’t want to do.
He nodded slightly, giving me permission to learn his body in the same way he’d explored mine.
I dipped my fingers beneath the hem of his tight black shirt, trailing my nails over his defined abs as I slowly lifted the cotton material. His muscles rippled and danced beneath my light touch, but he didn’t try to hasten my movements.
When I’d raised his shirt enough to reveal his strong chest, he lifted it over his head, fully revealing his ripped torso. I wrapped my hands around his corded arms, loving the feel of his sculpted muscles.
I slid my hands downward, feeling his forearms before shifting my touch to his jeans. I wasn’t nearly as graceful as he’d been when he’d unbuttoned my pants. My fingers trembled from the intensity of the suppressed lust coursing through my system.
He didn’t seem to mind. He remained perfectly still as I removed his jeans, feeling his powerful thighs as I stripped him. He toed off his boots and stepped out of his pants, leaving his body bare except for his boxers.
I hesitated, feeling suddenly shy. I could see the huge bulge of his erection straining against the cotton. It was intimidating, and I wasn’t certain if I was bold enough to continue.
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” His tone was strained but deep with sincerity.
I glanced up at him and was immediately captured in his flame-blue gaze. His jaw ticked from the effort of holding himself back. He was fighting his animal urges for me; he didn’t want to violate my trust.
That knowledge emboldened me. Never breaking eye contact with him, I tugged his boxers down, baring him completely, just as he’d done to me.
He allowed me to stare up at him in rapture for several long seconds.
“Look at me,” he finally commanded.
