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everything I
have. He slides his hands down my naked back, over the curve of my
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.