Page 114 of You Rock My World
“Fuck,” he murmurs, voice rough. “You’re so beautiful.”
My face burns as he pulls my leggings down my hips in one tortuously slow motion.
Dorian leans back, still fully clothed, his hands settling on my bare thighs. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
“Mmm.” I might be losing the capacity to speak. But not the one to move, thankfully.
I hook my fingers into the hem of his T-shirt, desperate to feel him with nothing between us. Dorian lets me pull it over his head, and my gaze rakes over him, tracing every sharp cut of muscle, the expanse of tanned skin, and all that sexy ink. I trace the tattoos sprawling across his chest, the intricate details I’ve memorized, sketched on the skin of the princes in my stories, and dreamed of every night I spent alone.
“You’re obsessed with these,” he teases, watching me as I drag my nails lightly over his ribs. Finally, I can kiss the phoenix over his heart, lick the wave crests on the other side.
I stare up at him with my mouth still on his chest. “They’re my favorite.”
Dorian looks feral as he shifts his weight to press me back into the mattress. “Good. Because they’re all yours.”
We kiss again with no restraint. No teasing. Only heat and urgency, the kind that sinks into my bones and takes over. His hands are everywhere—skittering over my ribs, gripping my waist, mapping my body as if he’s been waiting forever to do it. And maybe he has. Maybe I have, too.
I slide my hands up his arms, over his shoulders, nails skimming the back of his neck as he kisses down my throat.
I don’t realize I’m trembling until his palm flattens against my stomach, grounding me. “Everything okay?”
I nod, tracing the curve of his jaw, the shadow of stubble rough under my fingertips. “I just… I don’t want to wait anymore.”
“I love you.” He says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like it’s always been this simple. “I’m never letting you go.”
I smirk against his lips and undo the first button of his jeans. “Can you let go of these?”
Dorian shimmies out of his pants comically fast before he kneels back between my spread thighs—nothing comic about that. He slides a hand down my leg, fingers curling around my ankle as he lifts my foot, looping it over his shoulder. The motion stretches me with a delicious tension.
He smirks. “Socks stay on?”
I open my mouth to say something—something sarcastic, something teasing—but the way his fingers slowly peel the sock off steals the words from my throat. He takes his time, tugging it past my toes before tossing it aside, peppering my ankle with featherlight, open-mouthed kisses. Then he does the same with the other sock, his palm skimming down my calf in a touch so reverent, it nearly undoes me.
And then nothing is left between us except our underwear.
His mouth brushes the inside of my thigh. “Tell me you want this.”
I don’t hesitate. “I want you.”
A muscle ticks in his jaw, his restraint fraying at the edges, but he keeps his movements measured. His fingers dip under the waistband of my panties, and he drags them down my legs, his knuckles grazing over sensitive skin.
And then I’m bare under him.
His gaze rakes over me, dark and hungry, his breath coming slower, heavier. My chest rises and falls in time with his, my pulse thrumming in my ears. Being laid out like this, exposed, makes me flush with heat all over.
“You’re perfect.” The words are barely a whisper, but they crash into me anyway.
Dorian moves over me, his body a wall of warmth, pressure, and friction.
I map his back muscles with my hands, every dip and curve, and the ridges of his spine. Then lower. I squeeze his round, perfect ass, loving the way he tenses under my grip before I slide his briefs down.
He dips his head, kissing me over my collarbone, across the swell of my breast. I don’t know when he unhooked my bra, only realize he’s tearing it off now.
His teeth scrape skin, sending a shiver rolling through me.
“Dorian—please…”
He hums against my skin as our bodies come together. And then there is no more him or me, we’re an us locked in our movements—slow and tentative at first, then desperate, urgent. I gasp for air as he claims every inch of me, the sensation overwhelming and perfect.
