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His light eyes are wild, resting on my obvious boner. His pink lips are puffy from our kiss. He’s panting.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and shake my head.
“You don’t want this?” he asks, his voice rough.
I do.
I’m just too nervous to say it.
He smiles. It’s not mocking. It’s understanding.
“No more games, Cam.”
I nod, still breathing hard.
Suddenly, he moves, and the three feet between us diminish. He lifts me as if I’m weightless, his arms locking beneath my thighs with a strength that shocks me. I’m suspended against his chest, my legs wrapped around his waist, and he’s already carrying me toward the bedroom.
He carries me through the open door, and I catch a flash of the bed before he releases me. I land on the mattress with a soft thud. I whimper, an embarrassing sound I didn’t know I could make, and it seems to spur him on. I’m so turned on I can barely think, can barely do anything except watch him standing over me.
Holy fuck, Lucien is a god.
I think, distantly, that this is the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me. To anyone. This exact moment. This exact look on his face, like he wants to devour me. This exact feeling of being wanted so completely that he couldn’t even wait, couldn’t pace himself, had to have me right now. I look up at him, my own eyes wide with want, and he sees it.
He crawls over me, his movement confident and fluid, his eyes locked on mine. My heart is pounding so hard I feel it everywhere now, in my throat, behind my ribs, in my boxers, where I want him to touch me.
He positions himself between my legs and reaches for his sweater. In one smooth motion, he pulls it up and over his head, along with the shirt underneath. Suddenly, his chest is bare and he’s looking down at me like he knows exactly what I’m feeling.
Shirtless, he leans down and kisses me again, and this time, I grip his hair and hold on while he kisses me like he’s sucking out my soul. I’m breathless when he finally pulls back.
He lifts my shirt, and I help him slip it over my head. His hands move to my jeans next. He unbuttons them and tugs at the zipper, and the intention behind it makes my pulse race. I instinctively put my hand over my fly. It’s not that I don’t want this. I just don’t want to do the wrong thing and humiliate myself.
He pulls back, his eyes searching mine.
“What?” he asks gently.
“Um…”
“Tell me.”
“No.”
“Come on, baby.” He gives a tiny peck on the tip of my nose.
I tense. “I’m not your baby.”
He straightens a little more, looking me directly in the eyes. His voice is serious, signaling no argument.
“Yes, you are. Don’t start that shit again, Cam.”
Okay, I think. I won’t.
He softens again, his fingers playing with my hair.
“What’s wrong, Cam? You know I’ve seen you. It won’t be a surprise.”
I turn my head and exhale with frustration.
I’m a virgin. I don’t know how this works. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, how I’m supposed to be.
