Page 29 of Uncharted Desires
I look to the chair where he’s dropped his jacket. “Should I—”
A shudder runs through me when our fingers touch as Sawyer takes it from me, slowly. Patiently. “Don’t worry about it.”
He drops the tie on the floor.
Lifting my gaze to his, I reach for the bottom of his shirt and pull it from under the waistband of his slacks, the fabric hot and wrinkly where it’s been trapped between his pants and flesh.
Sawyer stands perfectly still, his hands hanging idly by his sides, letting me go at my own pace.
I lift my right hand and put it on his chest, and I can’t figure out if it’s my pulse or his heartbeat I feel. I brush my fingers over his collarbone, slide them all the way down to his stomach and walk around him. Once I’m behind, I flatten both hands on his abs, the heat of his back radiating to my chest even though our bodies are not yet connected.
It’s like his gravity pulls me closer, and I’m powerless to resist it.
Wrapping my hands around him, I locate the top button of his shirt with my fingers and pop it open before I move down and do the same with the rest of them.
Sawyer squeezes his shoulder blades together, giving me better access, and I pull the shirt open before sliding it off his shoulders and down his arms and forearms before it drops, pooling on the floor between us. I’m presented with the full glory of his wide, muscular back.
I can’t resist running my fingers over it, learning, memorizing every small muscle, every nook, and cranny of his powerful body.
With my hands still connected with his smooth skin, I walk around him again until we’re face to face.
Sawyer lifts his chin, looking down at me, but there’s no challenge in his expression now.
I melt under his gaze, and it feels like a part of me is dropping, pooling on the floor before him, much like his shirt. But then I gasp when my gaze drops to his chest.
A thin, pink scar, zipper-shaped, stretches from the middle of his collarbone to where the first line of his abs starts.
My eyes grow wide, and I trace my index finger along the scar, feeling gentle bumps and callouses. “What’s that?” I whisper.
Sawyer’s voice is stoic. “Nothing.”
“But—”
“Blake…” He puts his palm on mine, halting my movement.
Sawyer’s eyes are no longer half-closed, peering at me with intensity, and although a part of me is dying to know likethere’s some integral part of him he’s keeping from me, I don’t push.
His expression softens when I nod. “Thank you.” His words sink into my brain, and his warm breath brushes my face as he speaks.
And although I haven’t planned it, not today, and maybe not ever, his gravity pulls me stronger than ever before, and I find myself leaning in until his face grows blurry, and my lips connect with his.
The smell of his aftershave caresses my senses, soothing my racing mind.
I stick out the tip of my tongue and run it along his bottom lip as if knocking, asking permission to enter. And Sawyer grants it, his mouth parting as he puts his hand on the back of my head, touching me for the first time since we stepped into his apartment, and pulls my head closer.
We both gasp as my tongue slides into his mouth, his meeting mine there, until they connect in a slow, passionate dance.
He tastes like freshly brewed coffee, waking up my senses.
My eyes fall closed, and I put both hands on his neck, deepening the kiss.
Everything about it is strange—the rough edges of his lips, the lingering smell of male cologne, the scrape of his five o'clock shadow on my cheek. It should feel strange kissing a guy, but it doesn’t.
It’s just different, unlike anything I’ve experienced before. Maybe something about that unfamiliarity makes myinsides tie into a knot and my cock chub up and press against his thigh.
Sawyer tilts his head to the side, his tongue battling mine, until both end up in my mouth, massaging, wrestling each other in a sensual match, as we’re drinking unspoken words.
Sawyer slides his hands down my back, my skin scorching hot where he touches it, until they’re on my ass, making me gasp into his mouth as the realization of why we’re here in the first place comes back to me.
