I wish I’d lied—that I told him I was more experienced than I am just so he wouldn’t be scared away. But this is Easton, and between us, honesty has always been the only choice. “I trust you. Completely.”

He groans, and the sound is temptation and agony and pleasure all wrapped in one. “That’s why I should keep my hands to myself.” He cups my breast, his thumb grazing across my nipple. I swear his breath catches in tandem with mine. “Tell me what you want. I’m not trusting my judgment here. I need you to tell me this is okay.” Even as he says it, he rolls me to my back and crawls over me, bracing himself on one elbow and using his free hand to toy with my breast. He lowers his mouth to my collarbone, explores with his tongue and nipping teeth before kissing his way up my neck and whispering into my ear. “You’re in the driver’s seat.”

“I want everything.”

“Shay.” My name is the most erotic sound when he’s breathless. “I should stop.”

I whimper. “Please don’t.” Maybe I should be embarrassed by the desperate plea. Maybe I will be later. But right now, all I care about is getting more of him. “Easton, I need you.”

He shifts over me, pressing the heat and weight of his powerful thigh between my legs. “Can I make you come?”

I arch into that pressure, and my cheeks heat when I realize how easy it would be to rub against him—how much I want to. “Please.”

“You might be the death of me.”

I rub myself against his thigh again, and he hisses.

“Tell me you want me to touch you, Shay. Tell me I can put my hand between your legs and you’ll still talk to me tomorrow.” He shifts his thigh, putting pressure just where I need it. “Christ, I can feel how wet you are through your shorts.”

“Sorry.” But God, I’m not really. Any embarrassment I feel about my reaction to him is overridden by my need for friction. My only chance of keeping my hips still is if I glue them to the bed.

He chokes out a low laugh. “Don’t ever apologize for that. It’s so hot.” He sucks my earlobe between his teeth. “Feeling you grind against me is hot as fuck too. Don’t fight it.”

“Easton . . .” I slide my fingers into his hair and tug. “I want this.”