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But I’m too caught up in the contemplation of his gaze to listen to it. My legs tremble as his gaze lingers everywhere, and I’m glad for the solid bulk of the wall behind.

‘I’m hungry,’ he announces.

I blink. With him looking at me like this, food is the last thing on my mind. But his sculpted musculature looks like it needs a lot of calories to keep it pumped and primed. He pushes to a sitting position in one graceful movement, and my throat is suddenly dry as toast.

He does that slow prowl towards me again until he’s close enough to sit back on his haunches. I should be mortified thathe’s practically sitting at my feet, his head level with my crotch, his gaze wandering slowly over my body, his nostrils flaring.

But I just feel dizzy. And taut with anticipation.

A man is at my feet, gazing up at me, his focus intense. The hard thump of my heart bounds through my abdomen and pushes against all my pulse points.

‘You might have to wait till we get out of here.’ I clear my throat, my voice annoyingly raspy.

He shakes his head slowly, his smile growing bigger. ‘I have plenty to eat.’

I’m confused for a moment. Then his hand lands on the fabric of my shirt, just under where I clutch it to my chest. He tugs it, and some of it slips through my fingers to reveal the upper swells of my breasts. I grip harder, resisting the pull.

‘What are you doing?’ My voice, still husky, hovers in the air as heavy as the throb between my legs.

He doesn’t take his eyes off me. ‘I want to look at you.’ His words are like a caress. Like he’s leaned forward and brushed his lips against my belly. ‘Then I’m going to eat you.’

My stomach clenches tight. The crude statement shocks me so much that when he tugs again, the shirt slips from my hands. I’m laid bare to him now, and his gaze zeroes in on my breasts. My nipples pucker at his intense interest, and he smiles knowingly.

I should be embarrassed at my exposure, but my brain is still stuck back at the eating part. He isn’t hungry for food and everything below my belly button clenches.

He wants to… He’s going to… go down on me.

Without taking his gaze from the diamond-hard tips of my nipples, his hands slide up the sides of my legs, and my skin tingles in their wake. He’s going slowly. I know I can stop him at any moment. I know he will stop if I ask. All I have to do is open my mouth and tell him no. Such a simple two-letter word.

So easy to say.

But my heart is thundering, and my throat is dry, and I’m so drenched between my legs with wanting I can smell it. He can, too, the flare of his nostrils tells me so. And I want this. For him to put his mouth to me.

To… eat me.

I’ve never achieved orgasm the two other times a guy has gone down on me. Never. But I liked it. I liked it a lot. And everything is hot and tight and tingling, and I’m so primed for another climax that Danny will probably only need to breathe on me down there and I’ll come all over his face.

The thought is shocking. And so damn titillating.

For a moment, I wonder if Danny planned this whole thing somehow and he’s rigged some kind of aerosolised drug or aphrodisiac to slowly diffuse into the ventilation system of the elevator. Because this isn’t like me. I don’t do stuff like this.

Until today. Today, suddenly, I crave it.

I push the thought aside. This is Danny. He’s not the grand master plan kinda guy. Too elaborate for Mr Laid Back. And why conjure up a blizzard and trap women in elevators when he can just crook his finger? When he can look at me and tell me he can get me off with just one hand and I let him?

Why extend himself?

His fingers reach my waistband, and his gaze seeks mine. ‘Whaddya reckon, Doc? Care to help a starving man out?’

The air almost sizzles as my breath huffs out. I don’t say yes, exactly, because I’m too enthralled to form coherent words, but when he hooks his thumbs under my waistband, I don’t object. I just stare at him, my lips parted, my breathing a series of soft, ragged pants.

His eyes stay locked on mine as he peels three layers of clothing – sweatpants, long johns, underwear – down in one smooth movement. All the way down. His gaze never leavesmine, even as his hands urge me to step out of the confines altogether, including my socks, and he tosses them over his shoulder.

Only when I’m fully naked does he break eye contact, his gaze meandering down, down, down until he reaches the juncture of my thighs, and his breath hisses from his lungs in an audible stream.

‘Oh yes,’ he whispers.

He stares for a long time, his nostrils flaring, his mouth slightly parted, and my heart beats, and my mouth waters, and the slickness builds between my legs. My rectus abdominis muscles behind my belly button pull tauter and tauter.