LAYLA’S POV
With a soft sigh, Edward pulls back just enough to breathe, then tips my chin up with one hand, the other curling warm around my nape, tilting my head.
When his lips find my neck, goosebumps mask my skin and my fingers curl into his shirt, a sound crawling up my throat before I can stop it.
His thumb strokes along my nape and he does the same thing again, his lips pressing to the same spot, and I turn my head slightly without meaning to.
“Relax,” he orders, and I realize my shoulders are practically at my ears.
I try. I genuinely try to relax but no one has ever kissed my neck before and I don’t know what to do with my hands or my face or any part of me.
“Shirt off,” he murmurs against my skin.
Right. The shirt.
I lean back and reach for the hem, then hesitate for ex
