Page 52 of Elevator Pitch

I want him.

I hastily curl my fingers beneath the hem of my top. He stops me, placing his hand over mine.

“I didn’t say you could take off your clothes. Did I?”

I sigh. “No.”

With a raised brow and an incredulous look, it’s clear he’d like to be the one to strip me. He seeks approval in my gaze, and I assure him.

Yes. Yes. Touch me.

He delicately lifts my shirt and bra with a toss over his shoulder, staring admiringly at my full breasts and soft stomach. It hits me that this is the first time I have been naked in front of a man since my ex, and I stiffen. Insecurities creep in, causing me to hug my waist, covering myself.

Greyson examines me, pulling my arms apart.

“You are perfect, Selah.” He says in between gentle kisses on my chest and shoulders. Stepping back to take me in, he says, “Fuuuccck. Just look at you. Incredible.”

There’s adoration in his eyes, but he could just be saying that.

I’m not used to men complimenting my body. This is different.

Instead of embracing his attention, I want to assure him he doesn’t have to say all this.

“I’m not per—” I’m silenced with a kiss, tender and demanding before pulling away.

“I’m going to strip you bare and grant your body the attention it deserves. I’m going to worship you, because it’s what you deserve, Princess.”

When I part my lips to protest, he acknowledges his hard length straining in his pants and my breath hitches.

“Before you argue, this is what you do to me. I’m starving for you, Selah.”

Stoked flames erupt in his irises. My eyes widen, insecure thoughts dissipate, and I am enraptured in him.

He leans in closely, lips hovering over my ear. “Let me feast.”

I shudder at his words.

I grip his neck and slant my mouth over his, tasting him once again. He grips my hips, guiding me backward. My back meets the island, and we break the kiss. Chests rising and falling, lips red and swollen. The heat of his gaze is searing. Tugging at my sweatpants, he guides me out of the fabric as I steady myself on the counter. He kicks them aside, directing his attention to me. His gaze is drunk with desire when he picks me up effortlessly and sets me on the island.

Shit.

Add that to my list of firsts as well.

Once I am seated, he kneels before me, and a devious grin spreads across his face.

I am internally screaming.

I fear that Greyson may have ruined me for other men and he hasn’t even touched me yet.

He sinks to his knees and peers up at me. He wraps his hand around my ankle, pressing a kiss to the top of my foot. He continues to mark me, trailing soft kisses toward my center. Massaging my calves and thighs in between, I whimper at his concentration on appeasing me, but I’m growing impatient.

I spread my legs and reach down to rub my clit. I’m so sensitive that I quiver at the contact. He stares in awe before he rises and stops me.

“I didn’t say you could touch yourself. Did I?”

I roll my eyes in frustration.

“No, but–”

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