What surprises me is how much that matters. How much he matters.
When I’m with Dex, I’m not worrying if I’m good enough. Instead, I’m aware of my body, the way it feels, moves, and reacts to his. He puts me in a state of euphoria mixed with tight anticipation. He’s addicting, and I want all of him.
By the time we enter his room and close the door behind us, my knees are weak. I turn to face him, maybe to reassure him—I’m not even sure of what—and he’s on me. His mouth is hot and open, assured and taking what he wants. My pulse leaps. I suck in a breath and kiss him back, jumping up into his arms when he grabs my ass and lifts me high.
The room spins, and then I’m in Dex’s bed, straddling his thick thighs as he leans against the headboard. As if being in the bed somehow grounds him, he slows us down, caressing my shoulders, murmuring a sound of contentment.
“I love the way you kiss me,” I say against Dex’s lips. We exchange air, a gusty sigh, and he angles his head, flicks his tongue along my upper lip.
“I love the way you taste,” he murmurs before taking a slow, languid taste of me again.
I shudder, feeling it down my spine, up my legs. “You don’t kiss like a virgin, Ethan.”
He kisses me again, a little deeper, nipping my lower lip. With a grunt, he grips my ass and tugs me closer.
“And you sure don’t act like one,” I whisper breathlessly.
“Guess I forgot to read the virgin handbook.” His voice is husky against my skin. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about what I’d do with you once I got my chance. Vivid, detailed plans, Cherry.”
His hand cups the back of my head, completely engulfing it, and he kisses his way down my neck. I shiver in response, wrapping my arms around him, pulling myself a little closer—because there’s no way I’m moving him. He’s too big.
Had I snubbed big guys before? A mistake. There’s so much to explore. My hands coast over his shoulders, the muscles there liked honed granite.
“Take this off.” I pluck at his sleeve. I want to see him, feel his hot skin.
Dex sucks a sensitive spot at the base of my throat before pulling back. He reaches behind him, grabs hold of his shirt, and tugs it over his head in one swift motion. His hair flows wild around his face as he sits back and looks at me with eyes like smoke-quartz in the lamplight.
“Sweet hot peppers,” I say on a gasp.
He grins, even teeth flashing white in the frame of his dark beard. “Never heard that one before.”
I can’t even answer. I’m too busy just looking. Because Ethan Dexter without a shirt on is breathtaking. I knew he was built—kind of hard to hide that. But seeing him in the flesh is so much more.
There is nothing lean or sinewy about him. He’s simply solid, defined bulk. A body designed to take a hard impact and not cave. To endure. Broad shoulders like mini boulders, pecs as big as dinner plates. His abdomen is a veritable slab, a wispy little happy trail of golden brown hair starting a few inches below his navel.
Tattoo sleeves run from his wrists to the caps of his shoulders. Elegant script the width of my palm spans his collarbones.
“‘Here be dragons,’” I read out loud. “Are you the dragon?”
The corner of his mouth quirks. His hands rest on my hips, holding on with just enough tension to tell me he isn’t quite comfortable with the inspection but is letting me look anyway.
“Map makers used to put the saying along the borders, for places where they hadn’t yet charted. It’s in reference to the unknown, to be mindful of the unexplored.”
I peer closer and see the faint latitude and longitude lines drawn beneath the words. The map stretches to his shoulders where twin sea serpents play.
I trace the words, and he shivers, his nipples drawing tight and—
“Holy hell.” His left nipple is pierced. “I did not expect that.”