AllFreeNovel
Share Us
His hands clench by his sides, his gaze moving over my face, this massive man so vulnerable in this moment my heart literally aches for him.
My pulse picks up when my fingers reach his belt. His breathing gets shallower, his eyes darken, but he doesn’t move—just stands there, stock still like a massive statue.
My mouth goes dry, awareness flushing my cheeks and warming my belly. This is us. Mylo and me. Me and Mylo. It works.Wework. I just need to remind him. Still holding his stare, I slide my hand lower. Slow. Waiting for him to pull back. To push me away.
He doesn’t.
He hardens against my palm, the length of him—thewidthof him—clear even through the thick cotton of his pants. My lips part, a sharp rush of air filling my lungs.
His big hand covers mine. “I don’t want your—”
“Don’t finish that sentence.” I pull the hand covering mine up to my chest and press his palm flat between my breasts. “Feel that?” My heartbeat thumps so fast against my breastbone I can feel it even through his hand. “I want you.”
His thumb brushes the skin above the neckline of my dress, and my whole body shivers with the tiny contact.
“I want you. I’ve wanted you since the first day I met you.” I release his hand, leaving it pressed against my skin and slip the straps of my dress over my shoulders.
His chest expands but he moves his palm to let the silk flutter down my body, his gaze following it down over my blush pink strapless bra and matching panties, then lifting back to my face. His eyes are hooded, his breathing slow.
“I still do.” I reach up and untie his tie, slowly, carefully, cautiously, more than aware that he could shut this down at any second. “This doesn’t change how I feel about you, Mylo. Not at all.”
He doesn’t stop me, so I undo the top button of his shirt, then the next, and the next. The air is thick between us, my body wound so tight my fingers tremble when I tug the material free of his pants to undo the last buttons. My gaze drops down to take him in. Every ridge, every rope of muscle that covers his huge frame. His ram-rod straight spine and his massive fisted hands.
His abs twitch when my knuckles brush his skin as I slide the leather through the buckle, achingly aware of his stare on my face, of how tightly he’s holding himself. Of the fact he hasn’t lifted a hand to stop me, but he hasn’t touched me either. If he pushes me away now…
The jingle of metal as I free the end of his belt is the only thing audible over our mingled breathing and the thumping of my heart. I rake my lip through my teeth, apprehension tickling up my spine.
The button of his pants slides easily from its hole.
His lips part, his breathing agitated, the deep gray of his eyes almost completely taken over by his pupils as I lower his zip.
I barely manage to stop my moan when my fingers slip into his boxers. Crinkly hairs tickle my knuckles, then nothing but smooth satin skin and thick, thick hardness. My belly swoops in the best sort of way, every tiny hair on my body lifting, my skin flushing until my cheeks are hot and my whole body throbs. He’s—my god. I sway into him, the tips of my breasts brushing his bare chest through my bra.
“Kenzi, I…” His hands grip the tops of my arms.
“Stop thinking.” I rise up on my tiptoes and press a kiss to his lips as I wrap my fingers around him.
His eyes squeeze closed, but he doesn’t pull back.
I take that as a sign, tighten my hold, enjoy the weight, the heat, the feel of him in my hand. I kiss him again even though he hasn’t kissed me back yet. “You’ve no idea how many times I’ve thought about this.” I whisper against his lips, my hand sliding all the way to the blunt tip of him, then back.
His grunt is almost pained, but his hips move—a tiny thrust, and then he’s kissing me back, his tongue sweeping into my mouth on a moan, his hand moving up to the back of my neck over my hair, angling my head so he can kiss me deeper. Harder. There’s a confidence there. A barely vailed forcefulness I swear almost makes my knees weak. I want that part of him. I wantallof him.
I pull back, breathing hard, my gaze flitting from his left eye to his right. “Bedroom,” I whisper, the scent of him—the taste of him spinning my head as I step back from him and walk away, hoping with every fiber of my being that he’ll follow.
His bedroom is almost as barren as his living room. Just a massive bed and a couple of bedside tables. I sit on the bottom of the mattress, his simple white sheets cool against my bare thighs. He hasn’t followed. I rub my lips together and watch the door, my pulse vibrating in my throat. He’s not coming. My fingers curl into the sheets, cheeks heating just thinking about walking back out there.
I blink, sniff, stare at my sandals. This isn’t going to work. He won’t let it. With a dejected sigh, I lean forward and unfasten the ankle strap of my shoes. One, then the other, sliding my feet from them.
A throat clearing from the doorway jerks my head up and kicks my heart rate up a hundred-fold.
Shoulder against the doorstop, shirt open, tie hanging loose, he lifts his hand to the back of his neck as he takes me in. He really is perfect—every part of him, every scar, every frown, every grumpy-ass muscle of him. He’s perfect—for me.
I try to control my breathing, the rapid warming of my skin, the knot of apprehension almost choking me as I stand awkwardly beside my abandoned shoes. “Tell me you want this?”
His gaze trails down my body before settling on my face, his hand dropping from his neck. “I want this.”
I nod, the tension almost too thick to breathe through. Silently, I reach back to unclip my bra and let it drop to the floor.
