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Cameron licked at his bottom lip, and I swear, my thighs clenched as a reflex.
“Whatever you say, duchess.”
Gawd, I wanted to smack him when he called me that.
But I also wanted to kiss him.
And … I sort of wanted to sit on his lap and ride him until his eyes rolled back in his head.
Or worse. I wanted to set that hand on my throat again and have him tell me what to do.
Get on your knees, duchess.
Oh, how I wanted him to say it. To bend my body to his will and allow me those sweet moments of release where I didn’t have to think about anything but how good he felt. How good we felt together.
My skin flared hot as I imagined him growling it into my ear, and I darted my eyes away when he rolled off the bed and fished for a pair of charcoal-gray boxer briefs. He moved slowly, the muscles in his arms and stomach flexing while he tugged them on, then rearranged … everything … underneath.
I’d feel the phantom aches of that thing between my legs for days. Already, my body was sore in entirely unfamiliar places.
Instead of pulling my dress back on, I reached into my open suitcase and tugged on some silk sleep shorts and a matching camisole in a soft lilac color.
When I turned, he watched me with a smile hovering on his perfect, beautiful lips.
“What?” I snapped. My pulse skittered wildly when he looked at me like that, and it had me lashing out like a hissing cat who’d been cornered.
Maybe he scrambled my brain cells.
The worst part, though, was the deepest corners of my head—my heart—that didn’t want to hiss and snap and snarl.
What would happen if I melted back into him and let him take care of me? Just for a night.
What would happen if I didn’t push him away right now?
Even thinking it shook my foundations, rattling at some unseen lock and an unseen cage.
Don’t let me push you away.
Grab my face in your hands again and kiss me. Kiss me again and again and again.
Everything was so simple when he did that.
But when it was over, when the bright, sparkling lights of bliss faded from behind my eyes, it was then that I ran through all the reasons it was selfish and stupid and too complicated.
Cameron tugged his shirt over his head, all those glorious golden muscles covered in cotton now, the light dusting of hair on his chest gone from view.
I didn’t touch it enough, I thought desperately. I didn’t memorize it.
I didn’t kiss my way down his stomach or lick his biceps or drive him insane with my mouth and hands.
What if I’d just had the best sex of my entire life, and I’d never experience it again?
My chest caved in, and I fought to keep my breathing steady when he approached with steady eyes and that ghost of a smile. He used his thumb and forefinger to grip my chin lightly, then he ducked down, his mouth whispering a kiss over my lips.
“I don’t scare very easily, Ivy,” he said quietly, his lips brushing over mine. “But I’ll go because you’re asking me to.”
My stupid traitor eyelids fluttered—fluttered!—closed, and it’s possible that my body swayed toward his. Then he backed away, and I planted my feet in place so I didn’t do something ridiculous like jump on his back and wrangle him back into bed for another round.
I stood there, speechless and desperately turned on, while he walked out of the bedroom. Neville sat at the door when he opened it, staring up at him with a tilted head and pervy little cat eyes. That little shit knew exactly what had just happened in here.
