When he found the edge of my panties, I shuddered.Thiswas how sex was supposed to be. This delicious anticipation between the wanting and the act.
This is what I’d been missing all of my life.
Blake.
Why did it have to bethisman?
Slowly, he followed the lace edge just under my navel. I sucked back a breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob.
Anticipation melted into something so much larger. Want, lust, and attraction were chemical.
Thisseemed as if it was so much more than that. A full frontal assault on the senses.
Unforgettable.
Elemental.
Illogical.
The one man who should’veneverhad this kind of connection with me was going to destroy me—body and mind.
And I was going to let him.
Hell, I was about to beg him to.
Because I wanted tofeelsomething. To know I was alive and present in this world. That I wasn’t only my art and the girl clinging to the past.
I was wanted.
By this man.
Even for just a moment in this glass prison of his making.
Fingertips branded my skin as he slowly dragged my panties down until they tangled on my boots. In my head, I wanted to gracefully flick them off, but the reality of my personal situation had my ass superglued to the glass in terror.
What if I did this wrong?
Would he know immediately that I was two bumbling steps away from being a virgin?
What if he called a halt to this then and there?
Patiently, he drew them down and lifted each of my feet before tossing the pearl gray lace on top of my sweater. He leisurely drew up my skirt, gathering the flimsy cotton with his fingers inch by inch.
All the while his thumbs trailed a lazy path along my inner thighs.
No words.
Barely any breath.
Burning intent infused his every touch, his watchful gaze, the silence of the vestibule—and all of it ratcheted up my anxiety.
As the air kissed the tops of my thighs, I lifted my hands to my chest.
“Don’t cover yourself.” His voice was sandpaper over silk. “I want to see you. I want to see everything.”
Andhewas still wearing his suit.
“What if I want to see too?”