Page 72 of Stalk Me

His hands move back down, slipping beneath the waistband of my jeans. His touch is addictive, his fingertips leaving trails of sparks wherever they brush. Heat pulses between my legs, aching, desperate.

“More,” I whisper. “Please, Erik.”

In a series of movements that might be practiced and might just be very well-laid plans, he peels off my jeans, removing them along with my underwear. I can feel his growing erection against my stomach as he begins unbuttoning his shirt.

I’ve seen him shirtless before, but not like this. Tonight is different. Everything about this is different. It’s infinitely better.

I run my fingers over the taut skin of his abdomen, enjoying the tiny flickers of his muscles tensing. I gently pull his shirt all the way off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Every inch of him is muscle and man, lean and honed to perfection. But there’s something deeper within him, a kind of strength he didn’t learn from hours at the gym.

“You’re beautiful,” I say, sounding dazed.

He chuckles. “You make me sound like artwork in a museum or something.”

“You’re so much more than that.”

“You’re stealing all the good lines tonight,” he laughs, stepping out of his pants and taking his briefs off with them.

Seeing him, really seeing him, makes me tremble. He’s everything I didn’t know I could have.

“Why aren’t you naked yet?” he teases, his hands teasing at the straps of my bra.

“Well, my shirt doesn’t remove itself,” I answer, already leaning into him as he brings his lips down to kiss me again.

He helps me shimmy the straps off, following them with his lips and tongue, his breath fanning across my skin. By the time my bra hits the floor, I can barely stand.

He picks me up as if I weigh nothing at all and carries me to the bed, setting me down gently on the mattress and then following me.

I expect him to move on top of me right away, but instead, he leans over to brush his lips across my collarbone. “Is this okay?”

“Mmm.” Is that really the only sound I can make? “God, yes.”

He works his way down with soft, gentle kisses, lighting fires along my skin. “I’m going to show you how this should feel,” he promises, his voice a low rumble.

And then he’s doing just that, moving farther down and spreading my thighs. He ducks his head, his tongue flickering against my clit, and my entire body jolts.

“Easy,” he whispers, his breath a tease. “Relax for me.”

I want to argue that there’s no way I’m relaxing with him doing that, but then he’sreallydoing that, and his mouth is amazing, and all I can do is dig my fingers into the blankets and let him melt my brain.

There’s nothing forceful or harsh about his approach, and it isn’t long before the heat builds between my legs, and my back arches, and my breaths are coming faster, and I’m gasping something or another, but I couldn’t tell you what, because the orgasm is completely blinding.

When I can breathe again, he’s wiping his face on the sheets and grinning down at me. “Pretty great, huh?”

“Yeah.” Words seem far too difficult to form into coherency. “Let’s do that forever.”

“Tempting,” he laughs, but his eyes are darker. “I actually want to be inside you. If that’s okay.”

“Yes,” I sigh, and even though I’m already dripping and ready and would be more than happy to do this all night, the fact that he’s asked doesn’t escape my attention. “Yes, definitely.”

He leans down, covering my body with his own. In the moment before he kisses me, I look up and see his expression—worship and adoration and awe and love. Then his lips find mine, and I know exactly how to show him how I feel.

“Hey,” he breathes, pressing his forehead to mine. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And that’s the last coherent thing either of us says for a while, as the weight of his body pins me in place. His kiss lights my veins on fire, demanding and yet tender. He slips inside me easily, and the fullness feels so right that I wonder why it took me so long.

“Are you okay?” he whispers.

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