I want him to touch me, but what if I’m not enough? What if he thinks I’m just a misshapen potato not worthy of the peel?

Pushing aside the negative thoughts, I nod quickly.

He lifts the bottom of my shirt, exposing my flesh.

His warm hand grazes my skin, fingertips dancing lightly across the layer of hair that covers my belly, and I tremble, slowly loosening the muscles in my back.

“Can I?” he asks again, motioning to the buttons.

I barely get out a breathless yes.

Taking his time, he slowly undoes each one, pausing to look up at me and make sure I’m comfortable. When he gets to the center of my chest, he presses his palm in the space between my pectorals and lets out a measured breath. We maintain eye contact as he finishes the last button, and his hand moves gently to my collarbone. His touch lingers, lightly tracing the bone as the side of his hand pushes the fabric to the cliff of my shoulder.

As the shirt falls to the floor, his eyes travel the length of my body with something more than just hunger in his eyes. I’m breathing heavily as he bites his bottom lip, and his hands travel down to my nipples, then around my midsection, finally wrapping around my back. I brace myself for his inevitable disgust, but it doesn’t come.

“You … are a work of art.” He hums low.

In the moment, I believe him.

He cranes his neck to kiss me soft and quick, but the second our lips mesh, he grabs me and pulls me close. His lips eagerly attack mine.

We fall back onto his bed, and suddenly I’m on top of him, wedging his legs open with my thighs. He pulls me down, chest on hard chest, and his fingers run through strands of my hair.

I’m impossibly hard, and there’s no way to conceal it, but so is Jack. I feel him poking into my stomach, and I instinctively buck my hips into him.

He hooks both legs around my back, and his fingers paw at my shorts. I want him to go further, but it’s like we both realize at the same time that we’re about to enter unexplored territory. We’re both breathing heavily. My mouth hovers in the space between his lips and nose, his hot breath making me weak and heightening every one of my senses at once. His strong grip in my hair loosens, and I roll off him, falling back onto his pillow.

My skin is so hot, I think I might pass out.

Jack is just as red-faced as I feel.

We look at each other and burst out laughing.

“Fuck,” he gasps. “I really didn’t mean for that.” He lingers on the word. “But I get lost in you.”

“Are you wired? Is there some suave dude feeding you lines somewhere?”