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The shadow of his bedroom falls over me, and my calves hit the edge of his bed.
Gravity and his strength tilt me down, spilling me irresistibly onto his bed.
He’s a titan hovering over me, a silent shadow in the darkness, the shape of his body sculpted for perfect sin.
For a moment, I can only look up, totally breathless. So overcome by his blue eyes, completely helpless to resist as he rips my robe away.
I kick my slippers off next, and there’s nothing left to shield me from his roving touch as hot fingers slide over my silky camisole, my shorts, shaping me like his burning touch could melt my flesh into any shape he wants.
I feel naked already.
Not just my skin, but my soul.
The all-consuming way he’s watching me: it’s the same way he looked at my sketches earlier.
Seeing nothing else.
He takes in every detail, like he’s trying to brand me on himself.
I don’t know when I started shaking. But when he coaxes my legs apart, when he brings himself down against me to rest our bodies together, I’m a trembling wreck as I touch my fingers to his lips.
They’re so hot, so full, and I want their taste so bad.
“Kiss me,” I whisper. “Kiss me and don’t stop.”
Still no words.
Still only obsessed eyes and those possessive hands raking my thighs until my skin burns with his touch.
God, I’m so wet for him I could die.
Not a sound.
I’m expecting another onslaught. But when he bends over me, when he presses his mouth to mine, it’s lighter.
It’s sweet.
Somehow, that strips me more naked as his mouth strokes mine tenderly.
He kisses me like I matter—and that’s going to rip me apart even more if morning comes and it turns out I mean nothing.
Right now, it feels like I mean everything.
Like this is everything as our mouths and bodies twine and with every second our hands explore each other.
There’s more skin—more than touch—more than clothes falling, until there’s nothing but our bodies and the hiss of sheets and this perfect rhythm that feels like us.
Every inch of me shivers as I feel his roughness, his masculinity, his strength moving over me.
Holy hell.
“Elle, fuck,” he whispers.
It’s like he’s caressing me with his entire body, lighting me on fire with friction.
Everywhere he’s hard, I’m soft.
Everywhere he’s rough, I’m smooth.
