“My turn,” she declares, attacking the hem of my shirt.
I raise my arms and let her strip it off me, then catch her wrists when she reaches for my gym shorts.
“Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“I want to look at you first.”
I take my time studying every inch of exposed skin, and the flush that spreads down her throat and across her collarbones. She’s magnificent like this, aroused and impatient and focused on me.
“You’re staring.”
“I’m appreciating.”
“Appreciate faster.”
I laugh and hook my thumbs into the waistband before sliding the fabric down her legs along with the matching underwear beneath. When she’s naked, I step back to admire the view.
“Now you,” she orders.
“Demanding.”
“Motivated.”
I strip off the rest of my clothes, and her gaze travels down my body with unmistakable appreciation. When she reaches out to touch me, I catch her hand and spin her back against the mirror.
“Not yet,” I repeat, pressing my body against hers from behind.
The contrast between the cold glass and her heated skin makes her hiss and arch against me, and I feel every curve and valley of her body pressed against my chest and stomach.
“You’re killing me,” she breathes.
“Good.”
I trail kisses down the side of her neck while my hands explore her body. She tastes like salt and something uniquely her that makes me want to devour her.
“Dmitri, please.”
“Please what?” I murmur against her throat.
“Touch me.”
“Iamtouching you.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Tell me exactly what you want.”
She turns in my arms so she’s facing me again with her back against the mirror, and her blue eyes are dark with desire.
“I want your hands on me. Everywhere. I want you to make me come apart the way you did the other night.”
“Tell me that you’re sure.” I need to hear her choose this despite whatever doubts are running through her head.
“I'm sure. Even if it’s wrong. Even if I’m not sure I should trust you this much, I’m sure."
I cup her breasts in my hands, testing their weight, rolling her nipples between my fingers until she moans and pushes into my touch.
