And I wanted him in every possible way.

He was better than any fantasy I’d ever had, not that my fantasies had even gotten close to what I’d experienced in the hallway. The way he talked made my body turn molten. The way he kissed made me weak. The way he put my pleasure first—twice!—before he thought about his own was a revelation. I couldn’t believe it.

And then once he’d given himself permission to let go . . . good God, I thought he’d tear me in two. I’d never been with anyone so strong or big or rough.

But he was gentle now, setting me on top of his sheets. The room was dark and smelled like him. I inhaled the scent, dizzy with lust and happiness and anticipation.

He switched on a bedside lamp. “I hope you don’t mind the light.”

I smiled, rolling onto one side, my head resting on my arm. “I don’t mind. I like seeing you. It gives me butterflies.”

“I was hoping it would make you want to get naked.” He pulled off one of my heels.

Giggling, I sat up and watched him remove the other. “That too. Want to unzip my dress?”

“That would be a hell yes.” He took my hand and pulled me to my feet. “Turn around.”

I turned, lifting my hair off my neck. Slowly, he pulled the zipper down my back, and the red dress fell to my feet. Stepping out of it, I suddenly felt self-conscious. I hadn’t been fully naked in front of a man without the cover of darkness in a long time. I hadn’t been fully naked in front of anyone but my ex since I was twenty—and I didn’t have that body anymore. I’d had two children. Even though I knew it was stupid, that nagging little prickle of insecurity still stung . . . I’d been left for a younger woman. He’d told her I didn’t excite him anymore. Was my body to blame? Before I could stop myself, I covered my chest with my arms, wrapping one fist inside the other and tucking them beneath my chin.

“Hey.” Henry turned me by the shoulder so I was facing him again. “Don’t do that.”

“What?” I had trouble looking him in the eye.

He tipped my chin up. “Don’t hide yourself from me.”

“I’m not hiding,” I said, but of course I was.

Taking me by the wrists, he forced my arms down to my sides, and looked at me.

I started to panic a little.

I was totally bare before him—stretch marks, C-section scar, less-than-perky breasts and all. Unlike many of my friends, I’d never had surgery to restore my post-baby body to its former tight, bouncy, unmarked state. Now I was kind of wishing I had.

I’d never felt so naked or vulnerable in my life.