But he ducked his head, buried his nose in her underarm, and took a hearty sniff. Nothing, literally nothing, smelled better than a slightly sweaty Via DeRosa. She was still trembling nerves, struggling against her own desires. Her thighs worked against one another and he figured it was time to get them out of their own way. Seb slid down the bed and spread her knees apart. Without preamble or discussion, he landed his mouth between her legs.

VIA’S BACK ARCHED off the bed. Her hands flung out like she was looking for some cosmic handhold to keep her tethered to Earth. Her entire body hummed from his touches. He’d warmed every inch of her, set her buzzing and owned her. She’d know that man’s touch if she were blindfolded, if he wore gloves. She’d never been touched like that in all her life. Like this was the most important thing that would ever happen to either of them. Maybe it was.

And now his hot mouth was between her legs. She still wore her underwear, and he didn’t seem to mind. He worked her through the fabric, one of his giant hands circling her ankle and the other spread across her stomach, pinning her to the bed.

His tongue started to work in slow circles, around her clit, and Via’s hips bucked. She wasn’t sure she’d survive this. But then he was sliding upward and it was her nipple in his mouth instead. The hand at her leg started an inexorable slide up her calf and then her thigh as he suckled her. He was rougher there than she’d ever experienced, like he was trying to swallow some ungettable part of her soul. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t do anything much more than grab at his hair.

He took long pulls at her breast and then moved to the other. She felt each suck from somewhere deep inside. Apparently, all her good parts were connected by some internal, slippery, glossy chain that he was tugging at. His tongue was at her breast but she felt it between her legs. By the time his finger hooked her underwear to one side, Via was swirling with sensation and literally begging for more. She could feel the individual threads of the comforter beneath her, the tickle of his leg hair, the delicious scrape of his stubble.

And then—yes, God, yes—she felt one of his wide, rough fingers at her entrance. He didn’t press in. Instead he stroked her, playing in her wetness and groaning against her breast. His mouth slicked up to her neck, her ear.

“I want inside you, baby. I’ve touched you almost everywhere, and now I want inside.”

She let her knee fall even wider to the side. “Yes. Seb. Please.”

He pushed that thick digit inside her quickly, and he turned his face into the comforter and said her name into the bed. He was still, but she was electric, riding an internal beat and pushing herself against the heel of his hand.