Page 85 of Bottles & Blades

“Breathe, buttercup,” he orders.

It’s a command I can accept.

“I don’t know what to do,” I admit.

He goes still, his lips a millimeter above my belly button. I can feel his hot breath on my skin, and his piercing blue eyes burn into mine. “You’ve touched yourself?” he asks.

For a second, I can’t process his words.

Then I do, and my cheeks flare with heat. I nod jerkily, and he shifts, coming up over me, his big body surrounding mine, his hand on my jaw, thumb running over my hot skin. “Don’t be embarrassed, okay baby?”

I nod again, his gentle voice making it less jerky.

“This is normal stuff. It’s okay to have questions, and to not know what you’re doing. I’ve done it a lot”—his mouth hitches up—“and sometimes I’m still don’t know what I’m doing.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “How?”

He grins. “Because I don’t know what you like, buttercup?—”

“Everything you’ve done so far.”

His grin widens. “That’s good to hear, baby. But”—he sobers, voice gentle again—“there are going to be things I do that you don’t like.” His eyes come to mine again and hold, the seriousness in the blue depths making my protest die on my lips. “Things that don’t do it for you or things that make you feel uncomfortable or things you just don’t want to do.” His thumb trails over my cheek again. “And all of those feelings are okay. But all of those things, youneedto tell me.”

I nod.

“Promise me that, buttercup.”

“I promise to tell you if I feel any of those things.”

“Good, baby.” He brushes his lips over mine, shifts again, starts slowly making his way down my body. “And now for the most important part.” His tongue trails between my breasts, dips into my belly button, stops just above the waistband of my underwear.

“Wh-what’s the most important part?”

The glide of his tongue drifts lower, pauses, and he grins up at me again—though this time it’s wicked.

“You tell me everything youdolike.”

“Jean-Mi,” I whisper.

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs, fingers gripping the band of my underwear, slowly drawing the material down my hips. “Lift up, baby.” A tug and I realize what he wants—me to raise my hips. I arch, and he slides my panties down, down?—

Pause.

All of me is almost exposed to him.

“Okay?” he asks softly.

I inhale, shore up my courage, and nod.

Warm blue eyes. Steady fingers.

He slips the material from my feet, tosses it aside.

And I’m completely naked.

My heart thuds, nerves threatening to get the better of me But before they can, he starts touching me, massaging the sole of one foot and then the other.

I groan, head dropping back onto the pillows as his magical fingers move higher, running over my calves, the backs of my knees, my thighs…and thenhigheron my thighs.

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