Emma
Jack set me down in the middle of his bed. His mouth didn’t leave mine for long. We barely paused to breathe as he tugged my bralette over my head, then dropped his shirt to the floor.
I ran my hands over his chest, memorizing the way his muscles flexed under my palms. He groaned low in his throat when I kissed the spot where his neck and shoulders met.
“Jesus, Emma.” His voice was wrecked now. “Do you know what you do to me?”
I didn’t answer. I just kept kissing up his neck and down his jaw as he undid his jeans.
His hands were on my hips, dragging my leggings down slowly, watching every inch of skin he revealed. The way he looked at me made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. There was nothing rushed about it—just this hungry, reverent kind of intensity that lit
