Page 167 of My Temptation (Kingston Lane)

He stays silent as he wipes all my makeup off. “No. It’s not something . . .” His voice trails off.

Progress.

“I like the way you look after me,” I whisper.

And he does. The care that he looks after my body with is like nothing I’ve ever felt. He doesn’t say how he feels . . . but he doesn’t have to.

I can feel it in his touch.

He smirks down at me. “If I’m too extra . . .”

“You’ve got it just right.” I lean up and kiss him.

He smiles against my lips as he takes my face in his hands. Our kiss deepens, and for a long time we stay lost in the moment, kissing, drinking each other in, my heart floating around my bathroom.

He undoes my jeans and slides them down, his fingers circling over my sex through my panties.

“Hen,” I whisper against his lips.

“I know.” His eyes are closed as we kiss.

“We can’t.”

“Why not?” he breathes.

“It’s not . . .” I pause as I stop myself.

He pulls out of the kiss to look at me. “It’s not what?”

“That’s something you do”—I hesitate, embarrassed—“with your husband or boyfriend.”

He frowns as he listens.

“It’s . . . it’s way too intimate,” I whisper.

“You said you were mine.”

“I am.”

“So why can’t I have that?”

“Why would you even want it?” I frown.

“I don’t know.” His lips take mine again. “I just do.”

“Have you done that before?”

He shakes his head. “No.”

“You’re a clean freak. I don’t think you’re going to like it.” I give him a lopsided smile.

His eyes search mine. “You said you were mine.”

He wants the intimacy of the act.

And isn’t that the point? Isn’t that the entire reason we are here?

We kiss again and again, and damn it, I want to give it to him, but what if it backfires? What if he’s so freaked out that he runs for the hills? I mean, I don’t think . . .

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