“I don’t think we’re quite ready for that yet,” he murmurs hotly into my neck. He drags his teeth up to my ear, nipping at the pliant flesh.

I grunt as I tangle one hand in his hair, stamping his lips to the sensitive spot behind my ear, while the other hand finds his bare back. “Very funny,” I growl.

He chuckles, sending chills skating down my spine.

Digging the blunt edges of my nails into his skin, I scrape a trail down the knobs of his spine. He arches into me, shivering, just as I reach the small of his back. The towel is barely hanging on, exposing the firm swell of his ass to my wandering fingers.

Running on instinct, I spread my thighs to accommodate his size as I shove the terrycloth away, smoothing my hand over his hot skin. A deep, guttural moan rumbles over the base of my neck as I give his bare ass cheek a firm squeeze. At the same time, I thrust up against him.

He pushes away from me suddenly, coming to a stand between my legs. The towel—Jesus Christ, the towel is literally hanging off his rock-hard erection like it’s a damn doorknob.

Miles and miles of warm sun-kissed skin lay before me, begging for my touch. My lips. I want to know if he tastes as good as I remember, salty and clean and all man, man, man.

Before my brain has a chance to catch up, I sit up and reach for him, tracing that deliciously cut V line with my thumb. I tuck my fingers under the towel, the backs of my knuckles brushing lightly over the neatly groomed patch of bronze-glinted hair, and I pull.

I flick my eyes up to his just as it pools around his feet.

This isn’t the first time we’ve been naked together, but it may as well be.

Now that I can actually see him.

Now that I’m stone-cold sober.

Now that I’m no longer running from this. From what I want. Who I want.

My mouth dries as I take in the evidence of his arousal standing at attention mere inches away from my face.

Jesus, he’s big.

Logically, I know we’re just about the same size, but there’s just something about having another guy’s dick in your face that really drives the point home: I’m really fucking doing this.

I wait for the disgust to set in.

The panic.

For my dad’s poison to filter through my head as flashes of memories I’ve tried so hard to bury down skitter to the forefront. Whiting out my vision—