Slowly—so slowly I could cry—he hooks his thumbs into the sides of my panties and pulls them down my legs. When his eyes land on me—on my sex, bare and exposed—he curses. “Look at you, so bare. You’re full of surprises.”

“Steve liked it if—”

He pinches my ass, and I let out a breath at the sweet sting. “I don’t want to hear his name on your lips right now.” He guides one foot and then the other from the purple cotton then blows a cool stream of air right between my legs. “If you’re thinking about him, I’m not doing a very good job.”

He stands and nudges me backward until the backs of my thighs hit the bed. I lie back then prop myself on my elbows and look up at him, a potent mix of awe and lust making my breath come short. He guides his fingertips over my shoulders, my collarbones, down between then over my breasts and down my stomach. He lowers himself to his knees beside the bed and sweeps his hands out to my hipbones then back in, nudging my thighs apart as he continues his teasing path down my legs.

His eyes are so dark, so hungry, that by the time he comes back up to my thighs, I can hardly remember why I was nervous. I don’t care about anything but his hands on me and the way his fingers are inching closer to the ache at the apex of my thighs.

I’m not innocent. There’s not much I haven’t tried, but the majority of my experience was with Steve. And this is Easton. Everything seems new. Everything feels like a first.

As he hooks my legs over each of his shoulders, his grin is the perfect combination of smugness and delight. He lowers his mouth between my legs, and I can’t remember how to breathe.

His tongue is as patient as his fingertips, and the pace of his strokes is nearly torturous. I have to fight to keep my hips on the bed, but then he slides his hands beneath my ass and tugs me closer to the edge of the bed. He holds me there, devouring me, his short beard scraping at my inner thighs. When I rise off the bed again, he tightens his grip and groans in approval as he strokes my clit faster with his tongue.

Receiving oral sex has always made me uncomfortable—it’s too vulnerable, too intimate—but his tongue sends my thoughts scattering. He slides two fingers inside me and touches some spot I’d chalked up to mythical before this moment. I lose all control and come against his face with a violent jerk of my hips.

He stays right there, licking me through the aftershocks, stroking me as I slowly find my way back to earth.