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His voice is lower than normal, the words sending a shiver through me. And though there’s a note of disbelief, I swear there’s also something like longing, too.
“Yes,” I whisper, my cheeks singeing the pillowcase. “And maybe I could touch you, too.”
The silence in the room is deafening, the seconds ticking by slower than usual. Did I misread him? Was I projecting my own wants too hard?
The sheets rustle, and I can sense him closer, his body heat warming me.
“You can always touch me.”
My heart is in my throat as the backs of his fingers lightly caress my jaw, goosebumps racing down my arms, and then he’s half-leaning over me, cupping the back of my head. His lips brush over mine, featherlight, the same way they did at Element, testing, making sure I’m okay with it.
But this time, there’s no freezing on my end. I deepen the kiss, angling myself toward him, and he makes a low sound of satisfaction, my belly dipping with desire. This is what I wanted.
I revel in the sensation of his lips on mine, his mouth warm and minty. His fingers sift through my hair, scraping softly against my scalp, and I let out a guttural noise of pleasure, unable to help myself.
He pauses, then does it again, and I press closer to him, running a hand over his broad chest. His body seems even bigger in the dark as I pass over his pecs and down his stomach, toying with the edge of his shirt. Would it be too much if I…
He seems to read my mind as he drags it over his head, leaving his torso beautifully bare. I trace the ridges of his abdomen and around his sides to the hard muscles of his back, enjoying the sounds of contentment he makes as I explore.
He kisses me greedily, his hand moving from my hair, down my neck and the length of my arms. He settles a palm on my stomach, his thumb brushing the underside of my breast, and I inhale sharply, startled by the bolt of lust that steals through me.
He leans back slightly. “Is that okay?”
“Yes,” I murmur, tugging him forward. “More than okay.”
His hand creeps up, anticipation running rampant through me as he settles his big palm over me, squeezing gently.
I make an unintelligible noise, straining toward him, wanting more. He slips under my shirt and does it again, his bare hand on my skin heavenly.
I arch into his touch, sliding my hands into the soft strands of his hair, my breaths growing harsher the longer he continues. He thumbs a nipple into a hardened peak, then the other, the wanting rising within me.
I sneak a hand south, needing relief, and he stops me, nudging my hand away. “That’s my job.”
I bite my lip, holding back a moan. God, he sounds sexy.
His fingers trail down my stomach to my waistband, and I grip the pillow as he snakes under and rubs me softly. My thighs fall open, hips lifting as his middle finger slides under my panties to tease me. My body’s on sensory overload, a groan escaping me as he steadily sinks in and out. I’m so freaking wet, it would be embarrassing if I wasn’t so turned on.
He builds me up, adding a second finger, trailing kisses over my neck, and I squirm against the sheets, wishing this would never end. Wanting to stay connected with him forever.
“Let me touch you, too,” I whisper, shifting so I can reach him.
He continues to stroke me as my hands roam over his torso and down to the vee on his lower abdomen. I’d caught sight of it that morning he’d stepped into the room in only his towel, desperately wanting to touch it, and now I have the chance, my thumbs tracing the dip that disappears into his sweatpants.
I cup him, enjoying the falter in his strokes for a moment, and outline the shape of his cock, anticipating the first touch of him.
I play with the string at the waistband, drawing out untying it, and he makes this low, growly sound that sends a fresh wave of arousal through me.
Pulling the front of his pants down, I lightly trace a finger down his long length, his breath hitching. I smile, finding his mouth in the darkness to kiss him, and wrap my fingers around his cock, sliding from base to tip.
“Fuck, Tessa,” he mutters against my lips, reverence in his voice.
He thrusts into my hand, eager for my touch, and I give him what he wants, stroking him in time with the way his fingers move inside me.
Without the benefit of sight, every other sense seems to amplify, from the scent of musk in the air to the roughness of our breaths in the quiet of the room. I can’t believe we’re doing this, that it’s really happening. That this incredibly sexy man agreed to do this, that he’s actually enjoying it, too.
A tingling sensation races through me as his thumb rubs my clit, a maelstrom of emotion swirling within me, words rising to my lips I dare not speak.
I’ve wanted you for so long.
