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Unable to stop myself, I slowly slide my hand over his torso, over the ripples, down lower to the small trail of dark hair that disappears into the waistband of his pants.
His dark eyes hold mine.
Tell me to stop.
5
Eliza
We stare at each other. My heart is pumping so hard that I can feel my pulse throughout my body. I dust the backs of my fingers through the hair on his lower stomach, and his eyes flicker shut as if he likes it.
I open my mouth to say something.
“Don’t,” he cuts me off.
Whatever’s happening right now, he doesn’t want to talk about it.
He trails his finger down my clavicle, between my breasts, and then lower to my stomach. My entire body begins to thrum, as if waking from a two-year long hibernation.
He turns me away from him in a quick movement, and our gaze goes back to our refl
ection in the mirror. Him, in his white shirt and black dinner suit pants, and me in my white lacy underwear. His hand goes to my stomach, and he pulls me closer.
His open lips dust my neck, and I watch him and the ecstasy on his face. This is too much. I tip my head back to rest on his shoulder. My eyes close in pleasure.
Oh hell, what’s happening right now?
With his every kiss on my neck, our breathing becomes heavier, the feeling between us stronger. A river of deep emotion is flowing between us, and it feels sacred and strong.
This doesn’t feel sexual. It feels honest. Like we care about each other so much that the worship we have for one another is running over into the physical.
It’s magical.
Nathan
My entire body is aroused as my hands trail up and down her body.
The taste of her neck on my tongue is inciting bad thoughts, and I want more.
So much fucking more.
My cock thumps as it becomes painfully hard. I ease my hips back from hers. She can’t feel how aroused I am. She can’t know how badly I need to fuck her.
“Nathan,” she whispers, breaking the spell.
My eyes snap up to hers in the mirror. What the hell am I doing?
I step back. “You should take a shower.” I run my hand through my hair as I try to calm myself down. “You need to get that make-up off.”
Her face falls—is that disappointment?
“Yes.” She gives her head a subtle shake. “Okay.”
She practically runs to the bathroom, and I begin to pace. What the fuck was I doing?
She can’t know what’s going on with me.
She can never know how I feel.
