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It was only fair. He pulled his top over his head and threw it on the floor, looking right at her. She could see the eagle, wings spread, covering the top of his right arm. Her gaze dipped, taking in his bare chest.
The air between them was so thick he could feel it pressing against him. Their eyes met again, and he felt it in his gut. Blood rushed straight to the part of him that didn’t care he wasn’t supposed to be here doing this.
Standing half naked in his home with Lydia Paxton, who was completely naked under her towel.
“Can I touch it?” she murmured, her voice low.
“If I can touch yours.” He was all about quid pro quo tonight.
Her lips curled. “I was banking on it.” She reached out, tracing the outline of the eagle’s wings. “Why did you get this?” She moved her hand to his chest, tracing the outline of his pectoral.
“Because I was young, foolish, and drunk.”
Her finger brushed against his hard nipple. “How young?” She stepped closer. Until he could feel the warmth of her skin radiating from her.
“Lydia…” It was a warning. This aching desire felt inevitable. As though everything before this was leading to them standing here, half naked, in his hallway. He’d tried to fight it. Tried to ignore it. Tried to push it away. But he was tired of fighting. “I was eighteen.”
The attraction was winning out.
She moistened her bottom lip with the tip of her pink tongue, and it made him ache harder. “Do you regret it?” she asked him.
His head was fuzzy. He couldn’t think straight. “Regret what?”
“The tattoo.”
How could he regret it when it had somehow led to this? To her standing in front of him, her body less than an inch from his. “Regrets are useless,” he told her, his voice thick as molasses. “I don’t have time for them.”
“Me either.” She looked up at him through thick eyelashes. “Now it’s your turn to touch mine.”
She opened the towel until he could see the twisting stem of the cherry blossom. Jackson swallowed hard and reached out, his finger feathering her taut skin as it traced the tattoo.
She moved, parting her thighs just enough that he could tell it was an invitation. “You want me to?” he asked, his voice thick.
Lydia swallowed. “Please. That’s exactly what I want.”
“Damn, Lydia.” He lowered his head until his brow was touching hers. Could feel the wetness of her skin against his. “What are you doing to me?”
“The same thing you’re doing to me.” Her breath was soft against his lips.
There was an edge to her voice that sounded as needy as he felt. Her chest was lifting and falling rapidly, the towel brushing against his bare abdomen every time she exhaled. One pull, and her breasts would be against him. His dick swelled at the thought of it.
With his free hand he cupped her jaw, angling her face until her deep green eyes were staring straight at his. She swallowed hard, and her lips parted, and he knew this would be the best first kiss he’d ever have.
Because it was with her.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, tangling his fingers into her wet hair. His other hand curled around her bare hip, pulling her closer, until there was no air between them.
“So are you.”
The drumming in his ears reached a crescendo, matching his racing heart. He ran his thumb along her jaw, adjusting her face until their lips brushed. She moaned softly against his mouth, making him so damn hard it was painful. He was full of her. Her touch, her smell, the way she looked as she stared back at him. There was no space for conscious thought or rational decisions. He was her and she was him.
He slid his hand down her stomach, swallowing hard at the thought of touching her there. Once he did, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“I’m sure.”
He opened his mouth to tell her she was beautiful, but Eddie started barking, the gruff sound echoing through the hallway.
