We’re both silent. When I turn and look at him, he’s watching me, his face gentle but equally lusty. “You can do one thing for me.”

“I can?” I whisper. “And what’s that?”

“You can kiss me again, baby.”

Oh. Yes. That I can do.

I roll toward him and I lean forward, pressing our lips together. He shifts closer to me so we’re not touching, but we’re close enough that we can kiss comfortably. He starts out with a slow, deep kiss involving some tongue action that has my body burning for him. As things heat up, the kiss turns more intense. My body becomes aware of his, and I find myself wanting to press myself against him. Things ache in my body that only Dimitri could get to ache.

Pulling his mouth from mine, he murmurs, “How about we try something?”

“Oh?” I stammer.

“One thing at a time. One hand.”

I stare at him, confused.

“I’ll put one hand on you, and you,” he takes a deep breath, “can put one on me.”

He’s going to let me touch him. The very idea of this excites me to no end. I find myself nodding without thinking it through. I don’t need to think it through. Feeling Dimitri is something I’ve thought so much about. I stretch my hand out to him and I can see his skin almost ripple as it gets closer—this is because he’s flinching a great deal. I gently lay my fingertips on his side and I just leave them there.

He reaches across, placing his fingers in the exact same area of my body that mine are on his. He’s giving me charge. I slowly lean in again, pressing my lips to his. He lets me, opening his mouth to my needy tongue. When our kiss is heated again, I run my fingers down his side just slightly. I can feel his kiss falter, but he doesn’t stop me. He just follows the same path with his fingers. My skin breaks out as they lightly graze my body.

I reach the hem of his shirt and I hesitate. I want to take this further, I want to feel him, but I’m terrified. So scared that the moment we take it that step too far, I’ll break. I close my eyes, pulling my lips from his and resting my forehead against his. He’s panting, I can feel puffs of it blowing out against my cheek.

“Are you okay?” I whisper.

“Yeah.”

I don’t know if that’s a go-ahead or not, but I give it a test. I grip the hem of his shirt and I slowly lift it. I move my head back just a touch and watch his eyes as I lift the shirt up to his chest. He’s got them closed and his jaw is tight. He moves, though, allowing me to raise it by lifting his arms. He helps me with the last part of it, and he flicks it onto the floor. Then he takes the hem of mine. I swallow and let him raise it over my head.

I can see my own chest rising and falling as his eyes lower to my breasts. They’re covered by a lacey bra that actually does good things for my cleavage. My skin looks so pale next to his beautifully bronzed skin. I lift my eyes to his and see he’s now watching me, his expression completely unreadable. I place my trembling fingers back on his side, feeling his warmth radiating through them. He sucks in a breath and stares at me with a pained expression.

“No one has touched my bare skin since . . .”

“Since what?” I whisper.

I know Dimitri was beaten when Hendrix left him at a young age, but I have never been told what else happened. I’m sure, though, without a doubt, that he was assaulted in some way. I just don’t know how. There’s a reason he’s this level of fucked up—I knew it from the moment I met him because I could see behaviors in him that I had in myself after it all happened.

“Nothing. It’s just been a long time.”

“Dimi . . .”

“Jess, don’t.”

I won’t argue with him. If he doesn’t want to tell me, then he doesn’t have to. I know better than anyone that pushing something like that never ends well.

“Are you okay with my hand on you?” I whisper.

He nods, reaching across and stroking my side. “And you?”

“Yes, Dimi.”

He gives me a half-smile. “I love the sound of your voice when you call me Dimi.”

“How so?”

“It changes. You say it with a gentle tone.”

I smile and flatten my palm onto his side. He flinches but he doesn’t stop me.

“What now?” I ask, swallowing.

“I wanna touch you, Jess. I want my mouth on you in places that have been on my mind for weeks. I want my body inside yours. I want it all, but I want it all with you wanting it as much.”

“I want it,” I admit. “I’m just . . . I’m scared.”

He nods and I can see he understands. “How about we just keep goin’ like this, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Goin’ to touch you more now, baby, because my hands don’t wanna stay still and it’s takin’ everything I am to hold them back.”

I nod, moving my hand down and over his chest. His body is still tense beneath my touch but he allows it. I can feel the muscles under his skin. They’re hard, powerful, and completely arousing. Just looking at them has me wanting to roll over and climb on top of him, just so I can see them move. My thoughts are ripped from me when his fingers slide up and over my bra. I shiver.

His fingers graze me ever so slightly, before he gently cups one of my breasts into his hand. I whimper and swallow, staring into his eyes, which haven’t left mine. He moves closer, sliding his hand around behind me and finding the clasp. My heart begins to pound and I begin panting. I’ve never . . . never been exposed willingly to a man. I’m terrified.