At my insistence, he changed the kiss. Yes, I’d initiated and even showed him what I wanted, but I let him lead. I liked that he was in charge. Either he was ridiculously skilled—which I didn’t want to think too deeply about—or the mark made him naturally in tune with what made me hot. He knew how to kiss me, the way to tangle his tongue with mine. The way to touch me. And soon, god, and soon, the way to f**k me.
My ankles were still crossed at the small of his back. Propped up on one forearm, his free hand roamed over me from neck to hip before he growled. “You have too many clothes on.”
Only at the idea of getting n***d did I place my feet on the bed by his hips.
“You first,” I told him.
While he lifted one dark brow, he remained silent as he tucked his fingers beneath the hem and tu
