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“I am eager,” he murmurs quietly, “not impatient.”
I let out a shaky breath and slide my fingers up around his back. And then he’s kissing me, slow and languid and heated, and I’m breathless again in no time, heated from the feel of him against me and the memory of his fingers inside my body. I suddenly feel hot, too hot…
“Take my shirt off,” I gasp, “get it off me.”
He gathers me up in his arms and sits us both upright before I’m even fully aware of what’s happening.
“Has anyone ever told you how bossy you are when aroused?” he murmurs, looking way too amused for my liking as he dips his fingers under my shirt and slides them up along my waist.
“Who’s going to tell me that?” I ask with a glare, lifting my arms so that he can tug the material up and over my head. “You’re the only man who’s ever made me wet.”
He surges up on onto his knees suddenly, drawing me along with him so that our chests press together and his hands settle firmly against my ass.
“You are also a little crass,” he breathes, his eyes bright as he leans down for a slow kiss. “I like it.”
My bra unhooks suddenly as if by magic, and both his arms slide along my skin to draw it away.
And then he nudges me back and bends his head down to take my nipple gently between his lips, sucking lightly, swirling his tongue over the peak, and I cry out against him as I feel it zing straight to my clit as if there was a direct line.
“V-Vahadr…” I hear myself call weakly as I fist a hand in his hair, arching up into his touch. He makes a humming sort of sound deep in his chest and drags his tongue from one side of me to the other, biting lightly at the flesh of my other breast, and he continues to encourage me backwards with his tongue and his teeth and his fingers.
“Wait, take this off first!” I grab at the front of his shirt before he can lay me down, fisting it in both my hands and pulling myself upright as I scramble to untuck him. “I want to see you, I wanna feel your skin…”
He draws back and his fingers make quick work of his buttons. “So demanding,” he murmurs with an amused quirk of his lips. As his shirt finds its way to the floor, my hands find their way to his chest, running over the light dusting of silver curls.
“Thought you said you liked how bossy I am.”
“I do.”
He’s so firm and defined and…and hot. I can’t get over how amazing the hard lines of his chest feel against my fingers, how deeply attractive his broad white shoulders and rounded biceps look to me as he shifts his arms to grab my waist and the back of my neck, and he leans up over me again.
“It’s a different color,” I manage to murmur curiously, even as he tumbles me back against the sheets.
“Hmm?”
I flatten my palm over the glow on his chest that now hovers above me. It isn’t blue anymore but a lovely, warm amber instead, and I smile as I swirl my fingers over it. It’s pretty.
“Your chest,” I say quietly. “It’s changed, the glow is a different color now.”
His body stills above me, and when I look at his face, his expression is slowly melting into blankness.
Then he pushes away from me suddenly, sitting back on his heels and looking at his chest as if he’s never seen it before.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, but he doesn’t respond, and I lean up onto my elbows. “Vahadr?”
When he does look up again, his face is still set in a blank slate that I think might be shock. He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out and he looks back down.
“Does it do that often?” I ask, wondering what on earth is going on.
“No,” he whispers, and when his eyes dart back up to meet mine, they look intense and confused and surprised. “Never.”
