Slowly, the tingles in the rest of her body centered on her hand, that drugging ease he always brought seeping into her in waves. Oxygen filled her lungs, washed the fear out of her. His erection wasn’t any different than the rest of him. A little too hard, a little too big, and comfortingly familiar in a way it shouldn’t have been, considering how recently they’d met.

She began to explore in earnest, testing his response to a firm grip, a soft slide of her palm. Listening to his breathing change when she stroked the pad of one finger over his tip. He dropped his forehead to the top of her head and swallowed audibly.

“Does the low road have a low road?” Andra asked. “Like a basement road, maybe.”

He chuckled, the sound as deep and fathomless as the pulse of a bass drum. “You tell me.”

She slipped her other hand into his pants and pushed them down. The muscular curve of his ass branded her palms on their way by, and as soon as he was busy kicking out of his boots, that’s where her hands returned.

He was naked.

She knew it, but it took her eyes a little longer to take in the full reality of it. Her gaze fell from his collarbone to his arms to his slim hips and that lean V-cut that led straight to his erection. The strength of his body was written in every line of him, blaringly impossible to ignore without the buffer of clothes. It should have scared her.

She brushed her knuckles down his abs, watching them shiver under her touch. LJ had the power to force anything he wanted, but he had always let her lead, everywhere they’d ever been together.

“Please kiss me,” he whispered hoarsely, his arousal swelling even as he said the words.

She slid her hands around his back and did. His dick hard against her belly, her lips slow and deliberate. Not rushing because she was afraid he’d say no or accidentally clashing teeth because she didn’t remember exactly how kisses were supposed to go. Just melting open to make room for his tongue to stroke hers, the sensation of it trickling down through her chest and prickling along her inner thighs. Her body felt languid, soft. Sensitive to every ripple of his muscle pressed against her clothes.

His hand sank into her hair as he groaned against her lips, then took her mouth even more deeply. His hips twitched forward, rubbing his arousal against her belly. An arrow of heat streaked up inside her, and long-unused muscles squeezed wantonly. A sense of hollowness began to grow in her, and her inner muscles flexed again. Andra gasped, writhing against him.

“God,” he growled, deep and low. “You can’t do that, darlin’. Or you need to never stop doing it. One or the other.”