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“Slide your bra straps down your arms.”
She did, but held the cups of her bra over her breasts. The heat in his gaze threatened to light her bra on fire.
“Show me.”
Jeez. It was just her chest. Not a big deal. She’d flashed guys at parties and at Mardi Gras. Except she could tell it was a big deal to Luke. Obeying, she dropped her bra and was rewarded by the approval in his gaze. It was as though her body was exactly what he liked. There was nothing critical there, just appreciation.
“Fuck, you’re a hot little thing.” He toed off his boots and socks, then unzipped his jeans, all while watching her. Although she had the urge to cover herself with her arms, he was getting naked without any hesitation. Guys never seemed worried about their little imperfections, so why did women always feel like they were obligated to feel shitty about themselves? She stood up straighter and slipped off the flip-flops she’d bought, enjoying the feel of the grass under her feet.
He was naked by then, but she wouldn’t allow herself to look down past his belly.
“Jeans. Now.”
She tugged her zipper down, painfully aware of how hard her nipples were in response to his gaze and his commands. The man had a voice that could entice her to do almost anything. Maybe anything. Fly, kill a man, eat carbs . . .
Taking off skinny jeans when she had nowhere to sit down didn’t make for a very dignified strip show, but she managed with a bit of shimmying and awkwardness. He was polite enough not to laugh.
When she stood before him in just her tiny thong, he flicked a finger at it, too, and it practically melted off. It was sodden anyway, and she was glad to be rid of it. She moved toward the water.
“Stop.”
She froze in place and glanced back at him, accidentally catching a glimpse of his semi-erect cock. The thing was big enough that it required several glimpses. Now she was glad he’d declined the blow job she’d offered him in the dressing room—getting that thing into her mouth was going to be a challenge.
“What?”
“Did I tell you to get in the water?”
She smothered a laugh. “I didn’t realize this was going to turn into a game of Luke Says.”
“Oh, but it is.”
His dark eyes held a threat, but a fun one.
“Luke says stand there so I can look at you.”
Look at her? Jeez. She could feel the prickle of an intensified blush creeping up her neck and down her chest to cover her whole body. When he came closer, she stood up straight again, determined not to cower, even though her mind was urging her to.
He stood in front of her for a long moment, just looking. Her heart felt like it was battering at the inside of her rib cage trying to get out. Why was this so much more intimidating than just getting naked and messing around with a guy? Probably because it was still light out, and she felt like she was being inspected. It should’ve been every girl’s worst nightmare—being appraised by a hot man—but he wasn’t judging her. He was looking at her like she was worth savoring.
Slowly, he moved around her. She could feel his gaze on her, like the trail of gentle fingers over flesh. His build made her feel small and dainty.
“Don’t kick my tires. They’re sensitive,” she muttered.
He chuckled. “Did I say you could speak?”
She opened her mouth to say something scathing, since he was behind her and not pinning her with that dark stare of his, but nothing came out. Being looked at like this was humiliating and arousing and it made her desperate to either run away or lick his boots . . . although those were over by his clothes.
When his finger brushed against her lower back she cried out as though he’d touched something more intimate. She started to shake, her nerves more on edge than they’d been around any other man.
“Birthmark?” he asked.
She bobbed her head, remembering he hadn’t said she could speak.
When he was standing in front of her again, he was smiling. “You did a good job staying still.”
Pleasure flooded through her, like she’d just won the Nobel Prize in Standing Still on Command.
“Cold?” he asked, his mouth twitching in amusement.
