Page 45 of They Are Mine

Low. Soft. Fucking perfect.

His head dips forward slightly, exposing the long stretch of his neck.

I want to sink my teeth into it.

I want to kiss him there.

Bite him. Mark him. Make him mine in every way.

But not yet.

For now, I just watch the way he unravels under me.

The way he breathes deeper. The way he lets go.

He’s not thinking about his apartment anymore.

Not thinking about anything but my hands.

I trail my fingers down, down, down.

From his shoulders to his back, following the deep curve of his spine.

His muscles shift, flexing slightly beneath my palms.

So perfectly built.

It’s unfair, really.

Men like him shouldn’t exist.

Men like him shouldn’t be this good.

I want to press my lips between his shoulder blades, trail my tongue lower, trace every line of him.

I imagine it…

The way his skin would taste against my tongue.

The way he’d shiver if I kissed down his back, if I followed the dip of his spine with my lips.

How easy it would be to drag my mouth lower.

To pull those lounge pants down.

To slip my hands over his hips, wrap my fingers around his cock.

Fuck.

I have to bite back a sound, pressing my thighs together, heat coiling low and tight in my stomach.

I want him so badly.

I move my hands lower, just a little.

Fingertips grazing the curve of his waist, drifting dangerously close to the hem of his pants.

He doesn’t stop me.

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