His mouth found my neck, teeth grazing the tendon there, and I arched without thinking.
The towel gave up its fight, slipping to the floor in a damp heap. Cool air hit my wet skin; his hands followed, palms skating over ribs, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts. A shudder rolled through me.
"Fuck," he breathed against my collarbone, the word reverent. "You look so damn sexy."
I let out a breathless laugh and tugged at his shirt. He shrugged it off, letting it fall, and the heat of his bare chest against mine short-circuited every warning in my head.
He has an attractive muscle and scars which dragged my attention immediately. I traced the jagged line that cut across his ribs with my fingers slowing without breaking eye contact with him.
And he hissed, hips jerking forward without control as I went further.
His belt buckle clinked. I fumbled it open, fingers clumsy with want. He helped, shoving jeans down just enough, then lifted me.
