"Touch me," she breathed, the words escaping her lips like a plea. His hand moved, slow and deliberate, a gentle yet commanding presence.
His large palm brushed against her ear, sending a shiver through her, before cupping her neck.
She felt the warmth of his breath ghosting over her cheek, tantalizingly close. The ache for his kiss against her skin was unbearable, a need clawing at her insides.
His hand moved with torturous precision, sliding over her shoulders, his fingers tracing the curve as though committing every detail to memory.
Each touch burned into her, a brand she would never forget. She held her breath, the anticipation winding tighter.
Then, without warning, his hand cupped her breast with startling force.
The contrast to his earlier gentleness knocked the air from her lungs.
She gasped, her body trembling under the sudden intensity, her mind spinning in chaotic delight.
Her thoughts betrayed her. His hands would fit better. The words echoed in her mind as he massaged softly, the pads of his fingers grazing her nipple.
She bit her lip to hold back the moan threatening to escape. Her body arched toward him, desperate, needy.
She wanted him to say it, to claim it aloud. His breath tickled her neck, driving her insane as his hand wandered downward, tracing the curve of her waist.
Over the ridge of her ribs, lower, until it settled on the waistband of her jeans. His palm cupped her hip with possessive certainty.
Heat pooled in her center, her body responding to every maddening touch. Her breaths came harder, faster.
He toyed with the first button of her jeans, fingers lingering just long enough to tease her restraint.
She was unraveling, helpless against the pull of his touch. When his teeth grazed her earlobe, her control shattered.