He picked her up. Just scooped her into his arms like she didn’t weigh a thing—even though she’d singlehandedly wiped out her entire junk food collection the night before.

“I love your body,” he said, carrying her across the room.

Her heart squished in her chest, but her wits weren’t ready to give up the fight. “The light,” she said, pointing to it as they passed by. “Let’s turn off the—”

He set her very carefully on the bed and didn’t turn off the light. “You still with me?”

“Yes, but—”

But nothing because he straightened and stripped the rest of the way.

Every inch of him visible.

While she stared in shock and admiration, trying to take in everything at once, from his broad shoulders to the ridged muscles of his abs—which, by the way, she wanted to lick—she forgot herself.

Until, that is, he sprawled out on his back on the bed and pulled her over to straddle him. “Watch yourself,” he said. “Don’t do anything to pull on your cuts.”

What cuts? she thought, dazed. Aroused.

Pressing openmouthed kisses along her throat, he unzipped her dress.

“Uh-oh,” she whispered, holding her dress to her as she remembered.

“What?”

She felt herself flush. “I’m not wearing panties. They weren’t in my closet where I got dressed so—”

He grinned. “You’re commando.”

“Yes.”

“I love commando,” he said, and then tugged the dress over her head with a gentleness that she knew was in reverence of her injuries even as he somehow also moved with absolute steely unwavering determination.

“Um.” She started to cover herself. “The light—”

“God,” he murmured huskily, holding her hands out, away from her body. “You’re so beautiful, Lily.”

She looked into his warm, soft brown eyes, saw he absolutely meant it, and … melted. Or maybe that was his hands making her melt as they cupped her breasts, then headed south as he slid one between her spread legs.

“Oh,” she breathed, and then her hands were busy, too, trying to touch every part of him she could reach, and with him beneath her, sprawled out for her touching pleasure, she didn’t hold back, wanting all of him. Every single inch.

And he had a lot of really great inches.

He said her name again, his voice low and rough, and then he very carefully rolled her beneath him and slid her hands above her head, pinning them lightly to the mattress.

He looked down at her as she squirmed. “Right where I want you,” he said.

She squirmed some more, but not in nerves now. More like she couldn’t not move. She needed him to touch, needed the feel of his mouth and hands on her. “Aidan—”