I sucked in air as the movement came to a stop. This was the moment of truth. I took the smallest half-step back and let the fabric fall in a whoosh to the floor. I stood before him, this man who demanded my all, exposed but for my lacy underwear and boots. My nipples pebbled in the cool air and from the heat in Brody’s eyes.

He drank me in, eating up every inch of skin with his gaze. “Never seen anything more beautiful. Not in a museum or on a gallery wall. Never and nowhere.”

And as he closed the distance between us, his fingers skimming over my scarred skin, I felt that beauty blooming within me. A knowledge that I would always be that in Brody’s eyes.

I stepped out of one boot and then the other. Brody tugged his Henley over his head, then the shirt beneath. I watched in fascination as his muscles bowed and flexed. Tanned skin seemed to glow under the moonlight streaming in through the window. I’d never gotten this. To watch and explore. I’d never wanted it.

He chucked one boot, then the other. His hands went to the button on his jeans, and I sucked in a sharp breath as he sprang free. No boxers or briefs, just him. The faintest thread of nerves traveled through me. It had been so long, and the one time I’d gotten up the nerve to have sex, it hadn’t been enjoyable.

But I wanted this. To experience what had been described in books and shown on movies. I moved in closer, my fingers trailing up Brody’s shaft, moving from base to tip. He hissed out a breath, and my gaze flew to his face.

There was reverence in his expression. A look I’d never seen before. “Been dreaming about your hands on me for months.”

There was power in his words. Something that made me just a little fearless. My fingers grew bold, exploring. And I took note of each reaction in Brody’s face, the set of his muscles.

His hands began an exploration. A thumb passing over my nipple through the thin lace of my bra. “Love you in this. How I can only see a hint of what’s beneath, but I can feel everything.”

I shuddered against his touch, pushing into his hand, searching for just a little bit more. Pressure. Friction. Him.

“What do you need, Shay?” His words had a slight growl to them.

“You.”

“You have me.”

In a flash, he lifted me, then tipped me back so I was flat on the bed. Brody’s jeans were gone, and all I could do was stare, drinking in every inch of his body. The man could’ve been a statue chiseled from stone, yet he had a fiery energy to him that would’ve exposed him as being alive the moment you got close.