She arched against his touch, rubbing shamelessly against his hand. “What about you, though?”

“What about me?”

There was a wariness in his tone that hurt her. Like somehow, deep inside, he was expecting Becca to be using him the same way Adria used him. That if he didn’t get too invested, didn’t let her do the touching, then he’d be in control of the way he felt.

Well, screw that. If she was going in deep, so was he.

So Becca sat up, letting her hair fall over her shoulder, and looked down at Hank with her most sultry expression. “When do you get off?”

“Every night in the shower,” he admitted baldly, drinking her up with his gaze. “Thinking about you.”

And just like that, she was all turned on again. She crawled over him on the bed, feeling sexier than she ever had, and leaned down to kiss his mouth lightly. “Then maybe it’s time I get to touch you.”

“You don’t have to—”

Becca put a fingertip to his lips, quieting him. “You think you’re the only one with an imagination, Mr. Watson?”

The hungry look he gave her was aching with need. “Baby—”

“Shhh.” She tapped her fingertip over his mouth again. “I want to explore you a little. Unless it’d make you uncomfortable?”

He clenched his jaw, then mutely shook his head.

Biting her lip, she teased another button open on his shirt, and then leaned in to kiss the small bit of flesh exposed. He was wearing an undershirt beneath his button-up, but above the fabric, she could see a bit of thick chest hair. He was brawny and raw in all ways, her Hank, right down to his chest.

God, she’d never been so turned on by the sight of a hairy chest in her life. But this right now? This was absolutely doing it for her. Becca made a humming noise of pleasure in her throat, then slid one leg over his thigh until she was straddling him again, and slowly unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way and pulled it free.

He immediately sat up and pulled the shirt over his head, then flung the clothing aside and lay back down.

“Oh wow,” she breathed, gazing down at the muscled expanse before her. There wasn’t an inch of Hank that wasn’t rock hard, tanned, and ever-so-slightly hairy. She’d never been into a man with so much hair before, but it just made him seem a little more savage and untamed than a smooth chest would have, and she loved it. Becca leaned in, curling her fingers in the crisp hair, and then let her hand trail down his chest, her fingertips moving through the creases of his muscles. The man had freaking obliques, for goodness’ sakes, the vee disappearing into the waist of his jeans. He was literally hard everywhere.

Everywhere.