He ducks down to lick the breast he’s freed from its bra cup prison while I toe off my boots and undo my jeans to shove them down. But I’m not one of those lucky and graceful movie heroine types, and the denim gets stuck mid-thigh. I wiggle my hips desperately, trying to push them down further, but they’re not budging.

“Uh, hang on.” Mortified, I tap Blake on the top of his head, and he looks up with a question in his eyes. “I’m . . . stuck?”

His smile is huge, amused, and giddy with desire as he grasps my predicament. I watch as his eyes drop down my body and behind me to the bed, and a second too late, I realize that he’s measuring the distance.

He pushes, and I tilt backward.

“Ah!” I squeal, but I don’t go far—just to the bed with my knees locked together by my own jeans’ betrayal. Blake lifts one brow. ‘Gotcha’, that smug look says, and then he’s pulling his own shirt over his head to climb on the bed next to me. His skin against mine is pure decadence, sending little sparks of electricity everywhere we touch.

“Do you have any idea how sexy you look right now? Hair all splayed out, your eyes huge and dark with desire,” he asks, running his fingers through my hair, which is probably tangled into a rat’s nest. “Cheeks getting pinker by the second,” he adds, tracing a cheekbone I can feel heating with his thumb. “Flushing with want . . . bra haphazard, legs askew . . .” He brushes his entire palm and fingers over my breast, down my stomach, and to my hip. He dips down to whisper in my ear, “And the best part?”

My hands clench the duvet beneath me, trying to ground myself because I think I’m floating away into the ether and he hasn’t even touched me yet.

Fuck, I need him to touch me.

I’m gonna go off like a bomb with the slightest touch, but right now, I can’t be embarrassed about that.

I just want.

I need.

“What? What’s the best part?” I choke out.

“I can see how wet you are. You’re soaked right through.”

Fire flashes through me, but I don’t have a chance to react to the words because his hand cups my mound firmly and I feel . . . everything.

“Blake!”

His breath hisses as he inhales through gritted teeth, his fingers moving over me through the fabric. My hips squirm, begging for more, and he finally dips inside the thin barrier between us. When his finger glances over my clit and down to my entrance, my hips bow upward, trying to fuck myself.

It’s not his cock, but I’ll take anything.

I feel empty without him.