The kiss between us had started off gentle, a slow exploration of his lips and mine. We could kiss for a hundred years, but I would never grow tired of it. Never. And when the kiss deepened, my entire body roared awake and tingled. His tongue flicked over mine, and I felt him across my stomach, growing harder and thicker.

Deep in my core, an intense throbbing picked up as I drew back and looked him in the eyes. I could feel my cheeks heating, because I thought about his hand between my thighs and that wonderful, wonderful tongue of his.

The ache intensified.

His eyes darkened as he stared down at me. His throat worked on a swallow. He let go of my waist and slipped a hand down my side to the hem of the shirt I wore. “May I?”

Heart leaping into my throat, I nodded.

That half-grin was back, curling up at the corners of his lips as he gripped the ends of my shirt and tugged it up over my head. I didn’t know what he did with the shirt, because I was too conscious of the fact I was standing in front of him in a plain black bra and jeans.

His gaze moved over me, lingering along the swell of my breasts. Heat traveled down my throat and my nipples hardened, straining against the cups of my bra. “I want to see you. All of you.”

I let out a shaky breath. “I’m . . . I’m yours.”

“Fuck,” he growled, and then his mouth swooped down, claiming mine in a head-spinning kiss that left me breathless and wanting. I was barely aware of his quick fingers behind my back, making short work of the tiny clasps. The bra snapped loose, and as he tilted his head, taking the kiss to a whole new level, he slid the straps down my arms and then the bra fell to the floor. He was still kissing me as his fingers moved to the front of my jeans and unhooked the button. He tugged down the zipper and then his hands were on my hips urging down the jeans. They slipped a few inches before getting hung up on my thighs.

Brock lifted his head and stepped back only far enough for him to look down. His gaze roamed over my breasts in such an intense way it was almost like a physical caress. He knelt, dragging my jeans down with him.

My shaking hands landed on his shoulders. I steadied myself as I lifted a leg and then the other so he could remove the jeans. His calloused palms slid back up the outside of my legs. His fingers reached the band of my panties. I didn’t even want to look down to see what I was wearing. I was pretty sure they were striped boy shorts. I could’ve worn something sexier.