“Touch me,” he ordered softly. “I like it when you touch me.”

“My fingers are covered with paint,” I said between kisses. “I’m sorry.”

He caught my hand, threading his fingers through mine as he captured my mouth in another deep, scorching kiss. “Don’t apologize. It’s you. It’s sexy as hell.”

I had no idea how my heart kept beating as he then brought the hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss against the center of my palm. God, he had me in that moment, he truly had me.

Lifting his mouth to mine once again, his tongue delved against mine. Red-­hot pleasure whipped through me as he slipped his hands under my arms and lifted me up, placing me so I lay down the center of the bed. Never once breaking contact between our mouths. The strength in him was mind blowing, actually electrifying.

His body settled over mine, and I could feel the hard length of him pressing against my hip. His kisses running deeper, more urgent, and as he lifted his head, he nipped at my lip. His voice was thick with need when he spoke. “Do you have a condom?”

“Yes.” I nodded as I ran my hands over his shoulders and upper arms. His skin was fantastic, smooth like satin stretched over steel. I imagined that was how the bronze statue of Andrew Jackson felt. Absolutely flawless. “There should be some in the top drawer of the nightstand.” The moment that came out of my mouth, I worried what he’d think since it was obvious that I had a stash of condoms. “I can get—­”

“No. I’ll get it.” He kissed the tip of my nose and then my forehead, the sweetness of the act almost overshadowing the relief easing the tension in my neck. He didn’t care at all. Didn’t stop to even wonder why. The man was perfect.

Really perfect.

Because as he planted a hand into the bed next to my head and lifted up, his muscles did all kinds of amazing things. He stretched over me and to the side, and I was fascinated with how the muscles along his sides moved. I barely heard the drawer open over the pounding of my heart. Never before had I been so aroused.

“Thank God you’re prepared.” His rough voice sending a wave of light shivers over me as he reached into the drawer. “Because I’m not—­oh fuck yeah.”

My brows pinched. “Are you that excited over a condom?”

“No. Hell no.” He stretched further and shifted, raising his hand. My gaze fell to what he held. “I’m excited about this.”