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Who knew Macon Green was such a freak in the sheets?
I bit my lip, trying not to grin as I watched him work the button of my jeans. My belly clenched as nerves hit me. It had been a long time since I’d done anything other than just plain old sex.
His hands stilled. “You’re looking at me like a deer in headlights, Marin. Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”
“You don’t have to…” I knew not every man liked to.
He looked at me with an incredulous stare. “I don’t know whether I should love or hate Curtis at this moment.”
“Why?” I asked, watching as he slowly started to slide my jeans off my hips.
“Because I can’t quite decide if I’m more upset that he let you go two years without giving you pleasure or if I’m just so damn glad I get to be the one to do it instead.”
My jeans hit the floor, and his gaze settled on mine.
“Believe me when I say this, Marin: Watching you come, knowing it was me who did it—whether it’s on my fingers, my face, or my cock—it will always be an honor.”
Oh. My. God.
His hand slid up to the waistband of my panties, and I thought for sure he’d nudge them down, but instead, he just continued that slow pace he’d set, like he was memorizing my body with his touch. It was torture.
And I knew he was doing it on purpose.
His fingers slowly moved down my thigh, tracing my knee and then working their way back up toward my center. My breath caught as he brushed the lace that covered the most intimate parts of me.
“This doesn’t even feel like a challenge.” He smirked, cupping me through the fabric. I gasped, needing more. “I think you like this.”
I nodded, unable to form words.
I wasn’t even sure I knew my own name anymore.
I’d seen so many different versions of Macon. I’d seen him scared, bossy, anxious, and indifferent.
But I’d never seen him like this.
All doubts and insecurities had been left at the door, and in here, he was commanding. He was self-assured; he oozed sex like it was his whole damn job.
In the bedroom, Macon was a god.
And I would gladly be his willing sacrifice.
“Take off your shirt,” I told him, feeling a bit bold. “It’s only fair.” I looked around, as if to prove my point.
I was lying on the bed with my bra and shirt spread open, my breasts bare and my jeans on the floor, while he was still fully clothed.
I was dying to see him.
All of him.
He obliged, leaning back to reach over his shoulder. His shirt came off in one fluid movement, and he threw it on the floor.
My eyes went everywhere, all at once. Chiseled and cut just like I knew he’d be. God, I wanted to run my hands all over that lean muscle. I wanted to trace every line with my tongue.
“My fantasies didn’t do you justice,” I said, echoing the words he’d said about me.
His control seemed to slip a little, and his mouth slammed down on mine, kissing me deeply. A moan escaped from my lips as I felt our bodies touch.
Skin to skin.
