He kissed the inside crease of my knee and fire rocketed straight to my core.
I exhaled toward the ceiling. My hands twisted in the sheets and my hips jerked in anticipation. “Please,” I said again, because I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could take.
He placed another midway at the inside of my thigh, letting a hand glide down the opposite leg, all the way down to brush his fingers along the seam of my shorts.
A little show of fireworks. The promise of more.
His movements were slow and sure when he pulled back to tug the boots from my feet, one by one, peeling off the cushy socks I wore with them. I stretched my toes and dug them into the bed, and he smiled softly as if he liked it, just as he was pressing my knees apart and setting a single knee on the bed. He leaned in far enough to jerk at the button of my shorts, and a trembled breath escaped me when he angled back and dragged them down my legs.
“Goddamn.” Baz wet his lips, and he shot me an unfettered glance before looking back at me lying there in my panties and tee. “Got the best legs, baby.”
Hot hands splayed wide, riding up the outside of my thighs, scraping over my hips and sides, gathering up the material of my shirt as he went. He slowed as he pulled it over my injured head and tossed it to the floor.
My hair fell around me and my heart beat so hard I could feel it in my ears.
He yanked me closer to him, close enough to the edge that he could snake his hands under my back and unclasp my bra. He slid it off, leaning back to take me in with that covetous hunger he’d been watching me with for weeks. Beneath his severe gaze, my breasts became heavy and tingly. God, I couldn’t breathe. His voice dropped low as he reached up to cup them. The brush of his thumbs were like flames as he swept them back and forth across my nipples. “Best tits.”
Oh my hell.
He was unraveling me.
He touched the tip of his index finger to the center of my chest.
A palpitation.
He traced it down my belly where he dipped it into my navel, before he inched it low, low, low to snag in the front of the band of my lacy boy-cut underwear. He peeled those off too, leaving me a naked, quivering mess atop my bed, waiting for him, wondering just how deep those scars he’d leave me with were going to go.
“Got the best everything.”
I could feel the heat blazing from my skin, increasing with every erotic compliment he cast my way. Beneath them, I’d never felt so beautiful in all my life.
His attention jumped to the scatter of small butterflies that began in a cluster and spread out across my left hip. He darted his eyes to mine.
“Kallie,” I whispered, and confusion crowded the creases of his eyes, and a little of that guilt fluttered up. He didn’t even know her name. My throat grew thick as I forced it out, both defensive and nervous of his reaction to giving her a name when I knew in mere seconds this man was going to be buried inside of me. “My daughter.”
He took me by all kinds of sweet surprise when instead, he drummed his fingers over the tattoo. Soft and slow and reverent, and all those simple dreams tried to crawl up and find safety in my chest. More regret flashed in his eyes when they met with mine, hitting me with some kind of faraway understanding.
Then he seemed to snap and let loose of whatever thread of control he’d been holding onto.
He dragged the tips of his fingers through my wet center.
I jerked. Oh, that felt good.
He hissed a groaned, “Fuck.”
He climbed over me, nudging me farther up into the middle of the bed, and twisted out of his underwear all at the same time.
Hit with an overload of sensation, I was suddenly drowning beneath the stunning bulk of this magnificent man.