at perhaps no
one has taken the lead with him since . . . her. No, don’t
go there.
Lifting the covers, he sits on the edge of the bed,
gazing up at me, waiting, his expression wary and serious.
I stand before him and slip off his denim jacket and let it
drop to the floor, then I shuffle out of his sweatpants.
drop to the floor, then I shuffle out of his sweatpants.
He rubs his thumb over the tips of his fingers. He’s
itching to touch me, I can tell, but he suppresses the urge.
Taking a deep breath and beyond courageous, I reach for
the hem of my T-shirt and lift it over my head so I am
naked before him. His eyes don’t lea一ve mine, but he
swallows and his lips part.
“You are Aphrodite, Anastasia,” he murmurs.
I clasp his face in my hands, tip his head up, and bend
to kiss him. He groans low in his throat.
As I place my mouth on his, he grabs my hips, and
before I know it, I am pinned beneath him, his legs forcing
mine apart so that he’s cradled against my body between
my legs. He’s kissing me, ra一vaging my mouth, our tongues
entwined. His hand trails from my thigh, over my hip, along
my belly to my breast, squeezing, kneading, and pulling
enticingly on my nipple.
I groan and tilt my pelvis involuntarily against him,
finding a delicious friction against the seam of his fly and his
growing erection. He stops kissing me and gazes down at
me bemused and breathless. He flexes his hips so his
erection pushes against me. . . . Yes. Right there.
I close my eyes and moan, and he does it again, but
this time I push back, relishing his answering moan as he
kisses me again. He continues the slow delicious torture—
rubbing me, rubbing him. And he’s right—getting lost in
him—it’s intoxicating to the exclusion of everything else.
All my worries are obliterated.
I am here in this moment with him—my blood singing
in my veins, thrumming loudly through my ears, mixed with
the sound of our panting breaths. I bury my hands in his
hair, holding him to my mouth, consuming him, my tongue
as
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