His legs held their ground, and he undid the top button of her pants. As if he hit the slow-mo button, he dropped Mia’s zipper one stilted frame at a time. The pleasurable torment made his cock strain for its release.

He wedged his fingers past the tight opening in her pants, between her legs, and smiled in satisfaction when he found the damp underside of her lace panties. Her zipper bit at his wrist, but it didn’t matter.

She rubbed her sex against him and struggled to shift her pants down.

“That’s my job. These will come off when I say you’re ready.”

Moaning exasperation betrayed her. “Colby, now.”

He moved to her side, and she kept her legs open, rocking her against his touch. Winters immobilized her. One hand above her head. The other pressed against her mound.

He pushed the damp lace aside. One finger, then another, slid across her. If he thought he’d know how smooth and silky, wet and wanting she’d be, he was wrong. Stroking her was so far past pleasurable.

Her pants shifted over her hip bone. A small tattoo caught his eye. A symbol. Artful and delicate.

“You have a tattoo.”

“Hm-hmm.”

“What’s it mean?”

“Survivor.”

“Didn’t expect that.”

“It seems like you haven’t expected me at all.”

So true. His fingers dipped into her, then withdrew. A small shudder coursed through her body. He encircled her sensitized bud of nerves, so slick with her juices.

Mia struggled to lean up, straining against the wrist hold. She wants to see?

And like she read his mind, she said, “I want to watch you.”

He was wrong if he thought he couldn’t get any harder, and he’d never been so close to losing it before.

“You can see.” His throat hurt with guttural vibrations. He didn’t recognize its sound.

“Not as much as I want to.”

He released her hands, and she arched into him, digging her nails into his shoulder blades. She clawed for blood. Marking him as hers. She could leave scars for all he cared. He’d own that constant reminder.

Her legs opened wider, straining at her pants, then she pulled from him and unclasped the front opening of her bra. Her swollen breasts fell free and taunted him. She was intentionally trying him. It was a game of who could distract who more. And it was fucking awesome.

“I told you I was calling the shots here. That’s the only reason you got your hands back.”

“I got my hands back because–”

He stopped her with a suck on her bare nipple.

She bucked against him, then ran her hand over her breasts, massaging. “You were moving too slow.”

Too slow? He was worried about moving too fast. His mind spun circles. Christ, if he died on this op, she’d be to blame because she was killing him.