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ass, still covered by my dress, and then his fingers are on my thighs, dancing upwards, pushing the fabric higher and higher. I shiver, suddenly nervous, but the feel of his caress is too good to stop; the scrape of his teeth against my lower lip, the friction between us. His fingers trace higher, until his thumb grazes the edge of my panties, and sweeps softly across the apex of my thighs.
    Oh!
    I freeze in his arms at the contact. Hunter pauses, lifting his hand to take hold of my chin, gently holding it level, his gaze searching mine. His other hand is still between us, and his fingertips dance up my thighs and across me again, slower this time.
    I gasp for air, trembling. His eyes darken, his jaw clutches with tension. Slowly, deliberately, he strokes his thumb across me in a gorgeous swoop, finding the hot ache of nerves and circling, over again, sending pleasure rippling out through my whole body.
    I cry out, swaying forwards to rest my head against his shoulder as he tugs my panties aside, and then his fingers are on me, sweet and slow, circling, teasing, building the pressure until I think I might fall apart right here.
    I didn’t know my body could feel this way, that I could lose myself in a dark haze of pleasure, desire igniting every nerve, pure need flooding every atom until nothing exists but his hand and my ache and the slow, relentless circling of his fingers right at the heart of me. Somewhere, a voice is telling me to pull back, to regain the upper hand; find the control I’ve lost. Be safe. Distant. Detached, the way I always am.
    Ready to walk away.
    But it’s too late, I couldn’t stop if I tried. I want this more than anything, more than the last threads of my self-control. I buck against his hand, needing more, desperate. His finger slide lower still, pausing at my entrance.
    Hunter lets out a raw curse against my ear. “God, Brit, you’re so wet. You’re so ready for me.”
    I blush against him, but I’m too far gone to care, whimpering, writhing against him, needing more. Him. Now.
    Hunter slides one finger deep inside of me, and I lose my mind.
    “Oh!” My cry echoes in the dark room, a sound of shock and desperate need. We’re pressed together, not an inch left between us now. My breasts are crushed against his chest, swollen and aching; his hand bewitching me between my thighs. I rock against him, mindless, lost in the ecstasy he’s unleashing with just his miraculous fingertips: curling up into me, sliding out, circling and teasing, and plunging into me again, a relentless rhythm, dangerous, intoxicating. I move with his hand, desperate, the fire burning higher. Hunter flickers his finger inside of me and I bite down on his shoulder, whimpering. I’m closer, so close, at the edge of everything, desperate to fall, to let go, to be undone.
    “Brit,” Hunter growls, pausing, and when I lift my head, I see his jaw is clenched with agonized tension. His words are hoarse, breath ragged, and I can feel his desire, pressing hard into my lap. “Tell me, now. Please.”
    My mind is blank with lust, but I realize in a flash what he’s asking of me. He needs to know, if this is all I want—if this is as far as we’ll go. Or if I want more.
    Everything.
    Even in the midst of this inferno, with every atom of my being crying out for him, I can’t help but feel a pang of bittersweet regret. This boy is a gentleman, through and through. The kind I’ve only dreamed existed. Other guys would be on me by now, pushing, rushing, hungry to sate their need, hell, even I would assume I’m a sure thing by now. My dress is bunched around my waist, my skin mottled with desire, his hands on me, everywhere—and still, Hunter is making sure that this is what I want.
    My choice.
    But you can never have what you really want, a treacherous voice whispers to me. You’ll never know what it’s like to rest in these arms forever. All you can choose is tonight. A glimpse of heaven, a brief taste of its golden