I take a deep breath and open the bathroom door, stepping back into the room.
And there he is.
Nate stands by the foot of the bed, completely, gloriously naked. The lamplight plays across his body, highlighting the defined muscles of his chest and arms, the flat plane of his stomach, the narrow trail of dark hair leading down...
Well, he didn't waste any time now, did he?
My mouth goes dry. My eyes widen, unable to look away from the perfect specimen of masculinity before me. He's all lean muscle and smooth skin—this man no doubt spends alotof time in the gym.
"I hope this is okay," he says, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. His confidence doesn't waver under my gaze—if anything, he seems to enjoy my obvious appreciation.
"More than okay," I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper.
I can't believe how hot his body is. There's a small tattoo on his right shoulder—something geometric that I can't quite make out from here—and several more scattered across his body. A scar runs along his left side, thin and white against his tanned skin. And his cock… holy hell, it’s amazing. Half hard and hanging between his legs.
"Your turn," he says, the challenge in his voice unmistakable.
I hesitate only for a second before reaching for the hem of my blouse. His eyes never leave me as I pull it over my head and letit fall to the floor. My hands move to the button of my jeans next, eager to feel him against me.
"Slow down," Nate says, crossing the room to stand before me. "Let me."
His fingers replace mine, undoing the button with practiced ease. He lowers the zipper torturously slowly, his knuckles brushing against my stomach. I shiver at the contact.
"Cold?" he asks, a knowing glint in his eyes.
"Not even a little bit," I answer truthfully.
He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of my jeans, kneeling as he slides them down my legs. I step out of them, kicking them aside. His hands trail back up my calves and thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
Standing again, he reaches behind me to unclasp my bra. It joins the growing pile of clothing on the floor. His eyes darken as they roam over me, leaving only my panties as the last barrier between us. Thank god I wore some cute, lacy panties tonight instead of the comfy granny panties I tend to prefer.
"You're even more gorgeous than I imagined," he says, his voice rough with desire.
"You imagined this?" I ask, somehow still capable of teasing despite the fire raging inside me.
"From the moment I saw you." His hands settle on my hips, fingers playing with the edge of my panties. "I imagined every inch of you."
A small, rational part of my brain notes that I should be embarrassed, standing nearly naked before a stranger. But I don't feel embarrassed. I feel deeply desired.
His thumbs hook into my underwear, sliding them down until they too are discarded. Then we're both naked, skin to skin as he pulls me against him. The contact is electric, sending jolts of pleasure through my body.
"Still sure about this?" he asks, his lips hovering just above mine.
In answer, I close the distance between us, capturing his mouth with mine. Yes, I'm sure. More sure than I've been about anything in a long time.
He guides me backward until my legs hit the edge of the bed. I fall onto the mattress, pulling him with me. His weight presses me into the sheets, a delicious pressure that anchors me. His mouth explores my neck, my collarbone, the sensitive spot behind my ear that makes me gasp when he finds it. It's as if he's mapping my body, discovering every place that makes me shiver.
"Tell me what you like," he whispers.
"I—" The words catch in my throat. I've never been asked so directly before. My previous partners were considerate, but conversations about preferences were so awkward. "I like this," I finally manage.
"This?" His teeth graze my earlobe. "Or this?" His hand slides between my thighs, fingers finding me already wet.
"Both," I gasp. "Definitely both."
He chuckles, the sound vibrating against my neck. "Good start. But I want to know everything that makes you feel good."
His hands are magic—confident and gentle at the same time. He strokes and circles with practiced precision, watching my face for reactions, adjusting his rhythm when he feels me respond. I arch into his touch, surprised by how quickly he's learning my body.
