Carefully, she took her hand away, her fingers going to the laces of his own shirt. When she took him over that edge, she wanted to see him the way he had seen her. Beneath her touch, she could feel him trembling, his muscles flexing. His eyes were on hers now, darkened silver full of need and want. She slipped his shirt over his head, letting it fall to the rug, sliding her palms over the expanse of his chest. The scattering of hair over the lean ridges of muscle tickled the pads of her fingers, and Charlotte pushed him back gently so that he was sitting before her. She went to work next on his trousers, loosening the fall and sliding them down his legs the way he had done with hers, casting them and his boots aside.

And caught her breath at all the masculine glory that was laid out before her. He was leaning back on his hands, his broad shoulders gilded in the glow, faint ridges of muscle descending from his chest across his abdomen. The hair she had felt across his chest descended too, creating an ever-narrowing trail to where his erection jutted between long, lean thighs. He was watching her. Watching and waiting.

She hesitated, wanting to do this right. Not sure where she should start. Suddenly uncertain that she would be able to give him the kind of pleasure he had wrung from her.

“Come here, Charlotte,” he said.

She crept toward him on her hands and knees, and she saw something shift in his expression. He shoved himself off his hands, reaching for her, and hauled her into his lap unceremoniously. She could feel the unyielding muscle of his thighs beneath her where she straddled him and could feel the hard weight of his erection where it lay trapped between them.

“I want to make this perfect for you too,” she whispered.

“This is perfect,” he said. “You are perfect.”

“Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to touch me.”

Charlotte shifted, sliding back a fraction, and wrapped her hand around his erection. Flynn closed his eyes, and his head fell forward, his hands coming to rest on her thighs. Charlotte slid her fingers up the rigid length, watching his expression, gauging his reaction. Her thumb caressed the head, and she heard him grunt, his hips flexing beneath her, pushing himself harder into her hand. She leaned forward and caught his mouth with hers as she stroked down, catching his moan against her lips.

His eyes opened. “I can’t wait,” he gasped against her lips. “I thought—”