His hand grasped the nape of my neck, fisting my hair as he pulled me to him. I gasped into his mouth, and our lips tangled as I was led back in his firm embrace until my thighs hit the bed. and he pushed me onto it.
He did not remove his lips from mine as he untucked my shirt, hands roaming under it, up my sides. There was a rip and a rush of air against my flushed skin—my shirt and bra tore. That last rational thought was ripped away as his palm caressed my b.reasts, his callused thumb running over my hardened n.ipples.
He g.roaned into my mouth and settled himself between my legs; heat radiated from where he pressed himself against me.
“Is this okay?” he asked, his breath short.
“I am yours,” I told him. “Touch me,” I demanded.
And he did.
His fingers were claiming yet soft, searc
