Then, Vic leans back, arms crossed, studying me with amusement. “Okay,” He says with a slow grin. “Let the learning begin.” He swallows the last bit of his drink, sets the glass down, and asks, as blunt and straightforward as ever. “How do you like to be touched?”

My lips part, but only a weak, unsteady “Huh?” slips out.

He huffs a quiet laugh through his nose. I feel as vulnerable as I am intrigued. Vic’s studying me now, sizing me up like he’s already prepared to ace this lesson.

“You said I should touch you more so I will,” He explains, voice smooth as silk. “But I’ll be dammed if I fail at it, so I need to know what makes you feel good.”

My pulse jumps when his fingers ghost over my arm, trailing up and down in slow, deliberate strokes. His touch is featherlight yet searing. And all I can do is close my eyes and moan.

“I need to know how you like to be touched.” His hand shifts, sliding to my wrist, his thumb pressing just enough to send a pulse of heat through my body. “I need to know if you prefer my hand on your back or around your waist.” His fingers trail higher, brushing the inside of my elbow. “If I can caress your skin…and where.” His hand lingers at the curve of my shoulder, his knuckles grazing the side of my neck, and my breath stutters. “And…” He leans in, voice dipping lower, his lips so close I can feel his breath fan across my skin. “I need to know if a forehead kiss is the only type of kiss you want.”

The room suddenly feels smaller. And I feel…hotter, tighter, wetter.

“Vic,” I whisper through my panting breath, but instead of continuing, I close my eyes and hum, inviting him in—silently begging him to keep exploring, to keep surveying my body like he’s memorizing it.

He takes the invitation.

But instead of his fingers, he outlines my shoulder with his mouth. Barely touching me. Just the ghost of his lips, grazing, teasing, making my skin prickle and my breath stutter.

His breath is warm against my skin, and I can feel the tension in his body, his restraint hanging by a thread. “Fuck, you smell so good, Kerry. But I really need you to answer my question. How do you like to be touched?”

His voice is like liquid heat, seeping into me, making me weak in the best possible way. I don’t think. I just speak.

“Everywhere,” I blurt out, my voice thick and needy. “Touch me everywhere. My aching back and muscles need some lovin’. My legs like to be massaged. My thighs enjoy being squeezed.”

His hands tighten on me like he’s already committing to my needs. Like he’s already preparing to deliver exactly what I asked for.