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I’m being ridiculous. Am I scared? Absolutely. But this is Chris. I can trust him. Can’t I?

“Okay. No names,” I say.

He makes a low, approving sound in the back of his throat, and his hands glide over my hips. “Now, where were we?”

I lean back against his chest, my uneasiness fading as he peppers kisses along my neck and shoulders, nipping gently with his teeth. “I believe you were about to give me an unforgettable night.”

“And that, I will.”

He slips off my dress and bra, and I can feel his breath hot on my neck. His touch follows, fingers trailing over my collarbone, down between my breasts, and across my stomach. One hand splays on my lower belly while the other cups my breast. I arch into his touch, hungry for it. His thumb brushes over my nipple, and I gasp, the sensitive bud hardening.

More. “Please.” I need more of him.

Slowly, he rolls my nipples between his fingers, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my core. I’m slick and aching for him, ready to beg if that’s what it takes to end this torture.

His hand drifts lower, fingertips dipping just under the lace of my panties. “Tell me what you need.”

My mind goes blank. I don’t know what to say… so I rub my ass against the hard bulge in his pants.

“I just… I need…”

His touch retreats, and I whimper at the loss. But then his hands grip my hips, turning me to face him.

“Sit down.”

The mattress dips beneath me, and I grasp for him. “Chris?” My arms flail in the air.

“Ah ah ah.” He grasps my chin between his fingers. “What did I say about names?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

He cuts me off, pressing his lips to mine. “No apologies. Just feel.” He strokes his thumb over my bottom lip.

I nod, trembling. His hands smooth down my sides before hooking into my panties. He tugs them down my legs and thenremoves my heels. I’m naked. I suppress covering myself, forcing my arms to remain at my sides. Completely naked and vulnerable. Yet I’ve never felt more safe.

“You’re so beautiful.” His touch ghosts up my inner thighs, parting them wider.

My muscles tense, and my core aches. I want him to touch me there to ease the building pressure. But he avoids the spot I crave his fingers most, instead massaging up and down my thighs.

I whine in frustration, squirming on the bed.

“Tell me what you want.”

My cheeks burn, but I force out the words. “Touch me.”

“I am touching you.” He traces circles on my thigh, moving higher with each pass but always stopping short. “You need to be more specific.”

My heart pounds faster. “Higher.”

His fingers trail up my inner thigh, so close yet still not where I need him most. “Here?”

I shift, trying to guide him, but he avoids that sensitive spot. “Higher.”

His fingers ghost over my clit. “Is this where you want me to touch you?”

“Yes.”

Finally, blessedly, he drags his fingers up through my slick folds. I cry out as he circles my aching core with the lightest touch. My hips jerk, seeking more friction, but he keeps his movements feather-light while keeping me in place.

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