my wrist. I snap my gaze back up to his to find him glaring, all stern and serious.
God, I love that look.
“Yes?” I tease with false innocence.
His eyes narrow on me. “What do you think you’re doing?” His voice is nothing short of a growl, but a smile fights to peek at me from the corners of his mouth.
Loving you, I want to say.
Instead, I take my free hand and run the back of my nails up the path I just traveled along his torso. He shuts his eyes as a shiver passes over him. I want to make that happen again and again.
Beau peels his eyes open and arches one brow. “I asked you a question.”
My fingers reach his right nipple, and I trace its circle. I manage just one revolution before he snatches that wrist with his other hand.
I meet his gaze, and I know I’m not above begging. “Lie down for me.”
His breath hitches, and I swear a molten panic passes over his eyes. It tells me everything I need to know. My Beau is used to leading. He’s used to giving. He takes charge, and he gives and gives and gives.
Right now, I want to give. I want to lead.
“Please?” See? Not above begging.
Beau hikes his hips, lifting me with them, and turns us parallel with the sofa cushions. He leans back, propped up against one of the hefty throw pillows against the arm of the couch. I’m still straddling him, but now he reclines before me, all masculine beauty.
He’s still gripping my wrists.
“Can I have my hands back?” I ask, wiggling my fingers against him.
His eyes narrow again. “That depends. What are you going to do with them?”
“Touch you.” I know my tone is playful, but I hold his gaze and let the moment take us deeper. “Do you want that?”
Beau squeezes my wrists before letting them go. “Yes, I want that.”
God, I like the way that sounds. I lay all ten fingers low on his ribs and slowly glide them upward. His breath stutters. I don’t take my eyes off his. He doesn’t look away from me. It’s intense. And the intensity just builds.
“How long?” I hear myself ask. It feels like my heart exists at the base of a waterfall. Such a downpour. I’m over the edge and falling endlessly.
“Have I wanted you to touch me?” he asks, eyes and voice softening.
Speaking is too hard. I just nod. I brush my touch over both nipples, and he exhales a sharp breath.
“The first—the first night we met.” He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t have admitted it then. But it’s true.”
I smile because I could say the same thing. My hands reach his shoulders, and I lean forward to hover over him. “What kept you from admitting it?”
Beau plants his hands on my sides. They span me from rib to hip. The look in his eyes grows so raw.
“I couldn’t imagine this,” he says, gripping me tighter. His touch anchors me. “Why let yourself want what’s impossible?”
I think about the course of the last twenty-four hours. “Maybe letting yourself want what’s impossible is the secret to life.”
I lower myself and brush his lips with mine.
“Maybe,” he murmurs. His right palm slips higher, but I pull back and place a staying hand on him before he reaches my breast.
“I said it was my turn,” I remind him and nearly laugh at his frustrated frown.
“For what?” He’s almost glaring. I love it.
In answer, I fold forward again, but instead of bringing my mouth to his, I go for his right pec and run my tongue over his nipple.
Beneath me, his body goes bowstring tight. “Shit, Iris,” he hisses.
I nod, lapping and then suckling the tight nipple. “Tell me about it,” I murmur. I run my hands down his sides and back up his arms, loving each jump of muscle and each tremor as he seems to wrestle himself for control.
His hands land on my knees, and as I plant kisses across his chest, most with tongue and some with teeth, he grips and squeezes me in a kind of restless Morse code.
A desperate S.O.S.
Working him up is driving me wild. I’ve never done anything like this, and the thrill is almost too much. I’ve never felt so powerful. So free. So capable of sharing this part of myself with someone.
And it’s only right that someone is Beau. From the beginning, he’s always made me feel safe. Like it’s okay to fall or even fail when I’m with