I blinked. Air caught in my throat. Lord …

I had no idea how to respond to that, and before I opened my mouth and said something stupid, like “okay” or “are you sure” or “I’m expecting you not to hurt me,” I turned my head and my body and moved toward my bedroom. I did not look back.

God. My heartbeat was nothing before.

I stepped inside the room and looked around. The light was already on and the corner of the comforter was wrinkled.

Jamie had been in here. This was where he’d been waiting.

I moved to the side of the bed and spun around when he entered in behind me. Both hands clutched at the fold in my towel.

“Get on the bed,” Jamie ordered. His tone was severe.

My toes curled against the carpet. I didn’t move.

I watched Jamie reach over his shoulder and grip his shirt. He pulled it off and tossed it on the chaise recliner next to the window, met my eyes when he turned his head, and again ordered, “Get on the bed.”

I trapped my lip between my teeth, staring at his broad chest and hard muscles. I didn’t move.

Jamie unbuttoned and unzipped his gray, loose-fit cargo shorts. He pushed them to the floor, standing in black boxer briefs that clung. He was already hard.

“Tori.”

My eyes snapped up at the sound of my name.

“You never call me Tori,” I said, feeling the need to remind him of that.

He bent down, picked up his shorts, and pulled a sleeve of condoms out of his pocket. “About to get off on you. You’re gonna be hearin’ your name a lot,” he pledged, keeping hold of the condoms and tossing his shorts on the recliner to join his shirt.

I huffed out a breath, draining the air from my lungs.

Wow. That was honest.

Then, because I knew he was going to order me to do it again and also because I wasn’t sure my legs could hold me up much longer, I let my towel fall to the floor and quickly climbed onto the center of the bed.

Head on the pillow. Body stretched long. Thighs pinching tight. I looked down at my nakedness, at my breasts rising and falling rapidly, the tops of my knees and my hot-pink toes, then I lifted my eyes and saw Jamie was looking, too.

“Jesus,” he mumbled, bringing a knee to the bed and putting weight on it as he stared, eyes trailing up and down and lingering in certain areas. He blindly tossed the condoms next to my hip, then he gripped my ankle, pushed back, and opened me up.

I gasped and pulled the soft duvet between my fingers.

“You’ve got the hottest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever seen,” he said, climbing onto the mattress between my legs and staring there now, too.

My stomach clenched.

I wanted to roll away or cover up. I wanted to die.

And in the same breath, I didn’t. I wanted this more.

Jamie lifted his eyes to me. “You wax?”

I nodded.

“Always keep it bare?”

I swallowed thickly, then nodded again.

“Like that, babe,” he said, eyes darkening as he shifted closer, hands sliding up my shins, over my knees to my thighs.

I started shaking.

“Jamie,” I whispered.

He leaned over me, bracing his hands beside my shoulders and lowering, letting me feel the weight of his body. The pressure of him moved in waves, starting at my hips, stomach, chest, the tops of my shoulders, until he covered me completely.

It was comfortable and it wasn’t.

I wasn’t a small woman. I was average height, five foot six, and the rest of me was average, too. I wasn’t super skinny. I had meat on my bones and extra meat in certain areas. My butt filled out my jeans and I had to buy large tops on occasion because of my breasts, even though I was built for mediums.

I wasn’t pint-sized and petite. I wasn’t skinny by any means, but beneath Jamie, I felt tiny. Delicate.

He was huge and I was under him, wondering how long it would take him to break me.

When he dropped his head and kissed my shoulder, I stopped wondering and worrying and clutched at him instead, holding on to skin that felt like sunlight and smelled familiar. I gripped at the muscles in his back. I trailed my fingers up the line of his spine and curled them around his narrow hips.

Jamie rocked forward and pressed into me, leaning away and then bending to take my mouth and the moan I was giving him.

“You ready?” he asked, hot against my lips.

I nodded and whispered, “Yes.” Then I braced myself. Because if Jamie asked whether or not I was ready, I knew that meant he was done being slow and accommodating.

He was ready to take. He was ready to push my face into the mattress and make my skin flush under his hand.

He was ready to fuck.

So when Jamie leaned back and ducked his head beside me, kissing my other shoulder and moving down my arm with his mouth, my body stiffened. I was confused.

He wasn’t rushing to grab a condom and flip me over. He wasn’t making me cry out while he made me forget.

He kissed my biceps and the bend in my elbow. The back of my forearm and the inside of my wrist. He opened my hand and pressed a kissed to my palm, and when he moved over each of my fingers, sliding his own between them, I had to ask.

“What are you doing?”

Head turned, I watched Jamie draw my thumb into his mouth and suck. I clenched my thighs around him.

“He touch you here?” he asked, kissing the back of my hand and moving higher, lips tickling every inch of my skin. Sometimes just his breath.

I couldn’t answer Jamie because I knew what he was doing. And I couldn’t believe he was doing it.

Every part of me that touched Wes or had been touched by him, Jamie was touching. He kissed and he felt and he let his tongue taste. My other arm. Behind my ears. Over the curve in my ribs and the dip in my stomach.

“Here?”

My hipbones, he dragged his teeth as if he knew that was where Wes held me tight. Down my legs. The tops of my ankles. My feet.

“Here?”

On my stomach, I felt his hot tongue lick up my spine. He kissed the backs of my knees. He squeezed my ass and pressed his mouth there.

Jamie was erasing fingerprints and memories. He was replacing them with his own.

My breath hitched when he flipped me over again, palmed my breasts, and then bit them. I cried out.

My soft voice begged. Do it and again and again, Jamie, please.

He sucked on my nipples. He twisted them between his fingers and buried his face in my cleavage, cursing, “Fuck, baby,” as his hands shook.

I reached for him and whimpered when he sat back. I wanted more. His fingers in my hair and his teeth on my neck. “Please,” I whispered, arm outstretched and fingertips seeking.

Jamie held my gaze and moved his hand between my legs.

My eyes rolled closed.

“That motherfucker lick you here?”

My eyes flew open and I looked at Jamie after he spoke. I squirmed when he slid a finger inside me.

“Yes,” I whispered, in answer and in response to what he was doing.

He sank down.

I bent my knees up.

Every muscle in my body tensed.

Putting your mouth on a woman there, in my opinion, was a much more intimate act than sex. There was something profoundly personal about it. Hell, not all men even did it.

And Jamie was looking to get intimate with me.

On his stomach and hanging partially off the bed, Jamie dropped his head between my legs and swiped his hot tongue through my pussy.