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He stares down at me, eyes dark with desire. Coen’s hand moves to my jaw, and he rubs his thumb over my bottom lip. “I’ve observed you in a lot of different scenarios these last few weeks, and I don’t think there’s a single thing you’re scared of.”
I blink with surprise because he makes it sound like a compliment.
“I also think you’re incredibly smart and you have to be questioning the logic of getting involved with someone like me. I want you to prove to me you want me here.”
My breath feathers out in a sigh, and I slip my hands around the back of his neck. Going to my tiptoes, I pull him down so his mouth is forced to meet mine.
I actually feel Coen relax, as if he’d been afraid I might push him out the door. His arms band around me and his tongue slides against mine in a dance of lust and need.
My world tilts as Coen sweeps me up into his arms. Not the same way he carried me before with my legs around his waist and his hands gripping my ass, but cradled in his arms as he walks to my room.
And still his mouth is on mine.
Only my bedside lamp is on, and the room is muted in a soft glow. Coen sets me on my feet, puts his hands to my cheeks, and kisses me again. He’s barely touched me, and I’m already electric with need, mainly because of all the sinful promises he’s made.
Pulling back, his hands go to the hem of my shirt, and he tugs it up and over my head. For a long moment, he just stares at mybreasts before flicking the front clasp open so they spill free of my bra.
I have a moment of self-consciousness as he takes me in. I’ve never been ashamed of my body size, the clothes I wear, my freckles, or that my hair is so curly.
I don’t care that my nose isn’t perfect and my eyes are a little too wide.
I’ve never tried to impress anyone with airs, and all I know is how to be my authentic self. It’s always been enough for anyone who deserved to be in my inner circle, and yet at this moment, a frisson of doubt courses through me. My arms move on instinct to cover myself.
Coen frowns, his hands latching on to my wrists. “Don’t do that.”
“Sorry,” I mumble, but it turns into a moan as his palms cup me. His thumbs graze over my nipples, and I moan louder.
“Why would you want to hide this from me?” he asks in a low voice of wonder, but he’s talking to himself.
“I… don’t understand you,” I say, and his eyes, previously focused on my chest, rise to meet mine in question. “Why me?”
He looks genuinely puzzled. “Why you?”
I nod. “Why me? I’m nothing special.”
Coen’s lips press in a flat line as his hands move from my breasts to cup my cheeks again. He leans in and growls. “That’s the second time you’ve said that, and I don’t like it. Don’t ever let me hear you say that about yourself again.”
Sighing, I shake my head. “I don’t mean it like I’m down on myself or lacking confidence. I’m just an ordinary girl. Men like you don’t look at ordinary girls.”
Coen chuckles, clearly finding amusement in my proclamation. He kisses me and laughs into my mouth before pulling back to look at me. “The girl who turned my backyard into a zoo and refused to apologize, who ignores bullies becausethey’re beneath her, who jumps around to bad punk music without an ounce of shame.”
He pauses, leans in closer. “The girl who let me lick her to an orgasm while pinned against a tree. You’re the least ordinary person I know, Tillie.” Coen steps back and sits on the edge of my bed. “Now take off the rest of your clothes for me.”
He knows just how to embolden me because without an ounce of shame, I shrug off my bra and shimmy out of my shorts and panties. Thank God they come off together so he can’t see how singularly boring and unsexy my panties are.
Doesn’t seem to matter, though, because Coen’s eyes glitter as his gaze rakes up and down my body.
“Your turn,” I whisper.
Coen flashes his teeth in a feral smile, pulling his T-shirt over his head as he stands from the bed. I watch hungrily as he strips down to nothing but bronzed, naked skin.
My eyes drop to his cock, hard and thick, and my mouth waters. As much as he’s had his mouth on me, I want mine on him.
I move toward him and drop to my knees, thankful for the soft area rug that cushions the blow. Taking Coen in my hand, I hold back a triumphant smile as he groans when I squeeze him.
When I lick him, his hips buck, and when I take him into my mouth, he barks out a curse. His hands move to my head, weaving his fingers in my hair and holding on as I suck on his length.
I’m not overly experienced, but I am adventurous. And I’ve read my fair share of erotic romance, so I have a good enough road map of what will turn a guy on. Never one to back away from a challenge—and because I’m eager to please Coen—I find myself enjoying this way more than I ever thought possible.
