“I’m … well … I’m ten years older than you and my body shows it. And you …” She wrung her hands together feeling an inch tall for being so self-conscious. Jackson Knight wasn’t just ten years younger, he represented the pinnacle of physical perfection at any age.
“On our first date I told you someday I’d tell you what makes a man sexy. Remember?”
She nodded. Her reference that day was to him. The point being that nothing made him that way … he just simply was sexy.
“Take your clothes off and I’ll show you that what makes me sexy in your eyes is the desire you see in mine.”
After a deep breath, she fought through her insecurities and unbuttoned her blouse with shaky hands. He just stood there, watching her undress, watching her fall apart from the inside out. One man made her feel like a hundred sets of eyes seeing her in her most vulnerable state.
Shirt. Skirt. Borderline tears.
But tears weren’t sexy. Never had a guy asked her to strip for him. She wanted to be sexy, confident, and worthy of that look in his eyes.
“Keep going.”
Even her lips quivered as she bit them together and nodded once.
Thong. Knees ready to give out.
Bra. Eyes cast downward, blinking back tears of fear.
His feet came into view as she held her breath.
“Look at me.”
One agonizing inch at a time she lifted her chin. That look, that something, met her gaze.
“That desire in my eyes … it’s you.”
It was a dream. One she hoped to believe someday.
“Now take off my clothes.”
Standing, even just breathing, proved to be difficult. Undressing him felt impossible.
“Why me?” she whispered with raw honesty.
He tipped her chin up with his finger then brushed his thumb along her lower lip. “Because you matter.”
What did that mean? Had no one mattered before her? Impossible.
His hand dropped back to his side and he waited.
Her.
He wanted her to undress him. He wanted to be with her … inside her. Only in a dream. It had to be a dream. She wanted to close her eyes and not wake up.
He helped her remove his shirt. She took a moment to stare then her shaky hands unfastened his jeans. His erection strained against his briefs.
Ryn swallowed hard before easing down his pants. He toed off his shoes and stepped out of his jeans. Kneeling at his feet, she stole another breath of courage and reached up to remove his briefs. He threaded his fingers through her hair. It was a simple yet sensual gesture that sent a heavy pulsing sensation to settle between her legs.
Resting her palms on his hard quad muscles, she rose up on her knees. His grip on her hair tightened. It had been a long time since she’d trusted a man with every piece of her vulnerability.
“Open.” He let go of her hair with one hand while gently tugging her head back with the other.
She opened, but only from the shock that he said that to her. It wasn’t a question or even request. It was a demand. He looked down at her with dark, hooded eyes as he fisted the base of his cock, guiding it into her mouth. He teased it against her tongue until she took over. Bringing both hands back into her hair, he held it back to see her face as he made gentle thrusts.
“Touch yourself.”
It was official. She was in over her head and sinking deeper with every word that fell from his lips. Kneeling in front of him with his cock in her mouth, it was a little late to turn back. The most surprising part: she didn’t want to stop.
“Ryn.” It came out with an edge of warning, a side to Jackson she hadn’t seen. She liked it. A lot.
The uncontrolled moan she released while sliding two fingers over her clitoris, drew a painful “fuck” from him. With a groan, he pushed a little deeper toward her throat. The tightening grip on her hair revealed his teetering control. He grabbed her arms and pulled her up. The wild look in his eyes showed more than a slip of control.
He shoved her down onto the bed, plunging her heart into her throat. Who was this guy and why was she so turned on by his Jekyll and Hyde transformation?
“Spread your legs.”
Please didn’t seem to be in his vocabulary and no wasn’t in hers. After retrieving a condom from his pants, he rolled it on, his eyes giving her a challenging look that dared her to do anything but what he asked.
Pushing her knees back until they nearly touched her ears, he buried his face between her legs, eliciting a scream from someone. It couldn’t have been her. Ryn Middleton did not scream during sex … not ever.
Jackson became the ultimate sex toy, crawling up her body, sinking into her, and taking her to a whole new world. The woman beneath him, moaning, begging, and digging her nails into the flesh of his toned ass, was one lucky, lucky girl. After seeing stars, she sucked her lower lip into her mouth as he collapsed on top of her.