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“Who’sfreaking outnow, Lucy?”
“Me, definitely me.” I nod mindlessly, turning my eyes up to his as he shrugs his shirt off. I haven’t even seen his arms yet. It hits me in that moment, his strong, chiseled arms or his wide chest, his broad shoulders.
Breathing. I know how to do that. God, I’m gonna be drooling on him soon.
I scoot forward on the bed, balancing on the very edge as I push my leggings down. He’s too close for me to get any leverage, so I set my feet on his, trying to hide a cringe.
Unfortunately, he’s watching me too closely, and his eyes snap down to the floor. “Lucy.”
“Sh-Should I keep these on?” I ask, feigning ignorance.
His head tilts at my willful bad behavior, and I duck my head, looking at him through my lashes.
“I don’t want you to move,” I admit, “so I can get them off.”
He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing thickly before he licks his lips. He opens his hands and curls his fingers up twice, gesturing for me to give him my feet.
There’s no way to do that in a seated position, but I’m not about to deny him, so I’ll make it work. I lay back and raise my legs, resting my feet in either hand, and he shocks me by placing them both on his chest.
Shit, he’s hot, his heart hammering clean through in spite of the calm façade he projects. My stomach flutters as his fingertips trace my toes, up my ankles, kneading my calves as he looks down at me, sprawled back on his bed.
I settle my restless hands up by my head, clenching and flexing my fists, and the rumble in his chest tickles my feet before his low growl fills the room.
“If you’d like help, Lucy, I’m going to request that you ask for it.”
Oh, the amount of help I need right now isn’t even funny. I squeeze my thighs together for just a beat to catch my breath, and nod.
“Yes, please,” I rush out. “W-Will you help me? S-Sir.”
His eyes fall closed, and he drops his head back, looking up to the ceiling like he’s desperately trying to keep himself in check. I wait. No matter how badly I want to whine and beg for his attention back, I let him compose himself while I slowly but surely turn to molten lava.
When his eyes come back to mine, he flattens his hands on the underside of my legs, sliding them smoothly lower. He leans in as his hands cup under my ass, guiding my hips up and off the bed. His shirt slips up my waist, bunching under my chest, but I don’t move my hands to hold it in place. I’m not sure I could if I wanted to.
His thick, rough fingers hook under the waistband, expertly avoiding my panties and dragging the elastic over my hips. He guides my hips back down before straightening, freeing one ankle from my leggings, then the other. I settle my feet on the bed as he rips his undershirt off and throws it to the side.
He shakes his head, looking me over with such intensity it makes my skin prickle with awareness. And for once—really, for the first time—I’m preening. He could spend the rest of his days here with me, looking at me like a man starved, and I would love it. I’d thrive off it.
He shoves his own pants off and kicks both garments behind him like they personally offend him, parting my trembling legs and fitting himself in between. His boxer briefs are tight around him, the same black as his suit, and do almost nothing to keep us from touching. I choke on a cry I can’t keep back, my hips bucking into him, and his fist clenches in the comforter beside my waist.
His eyes roam from my eyes down my body, lingering on my heaving chest before skirting the exposed band on my stomach. Then his gaze settles on my leg, his brow bunching at the splotchy red and purple marks raging under my skin.
He outlines the ugly brand with his finger, a shuttered sigh tickling my knee as it dances over his lips.
Then he kisses the horrible bruise. A soft, open-mouthed kiss to my hip, his tongue leaving a small, wet dot that makes me shiver when his breath cools over it.
I whine, dropping my head back and pulling at my hair. “Th-That felt good.”
“Eyes on me.”
I find him peering up at me, eyes fierce, and it takes everything I have not to cry. I’ve never been so wound up before in my life. My skin is too tight, every nerve a live wire, and I know with every involuntary twitch of my hips my panties get wetter.
It’s not lost on him, I find, when he pulls my hips to his face and inhales like he’s coming up from the ocean.
I nearly shriek, my knees tightening around his head for only a moment, self-consciousness nipping at the back of my neck. But he kisses me again, a soft touch of his mouth to the front of my panties, and blowing on the heated skin between my legs. He waits there, holding me close and relishing in the way I whimper and squirm for more.
I drop one hand on top of his head, then think better of it and smack them both on the bed, fisting the sheets before I fly away.
He ventures leisurely up my body, his nose dipping in my belly button before he kisses between my ribs, over his shirt. He taps both elbows and I lift them back over my head, and he follows, lacing his fingers with mine as his body crushes down on me.
