“But you’re not moving.” I tried to swallow past the lump in my throat, but it wouldn’t budge.

Again, his upper body tensed, the muscles in his forearms rippling where he held on to the doorframe. “I’m over here because I don’t trust myself to get any closer to you without stripping those clothes off your tight, perfect body.”

“Oh.”

“So if you’re telling me that you’re ready, I need you to be damn sure, Leah. Because I have wanted you since the first time I saw you, and I have been so fucking good about keeping my hands to myself. You have no clue what you do to me, how much self-control I have to use to keep from pressuring you.”

“Oh.” That giant knot in my throat drifted lower, lodging in my stomach as my core started to simmer.

“So now all I get is one word?” he asked.

I wasn’t sure I was capable of more. All my brain cells were currently scrambling to form a coherent thought that wasn’t now.

His eyes dropped to where my hands wrung my bandana.

My red bandana.

It wasn’t a flag, but it would do. I lifted it with one hand and waved it twice before letting it flutter to the floor. His eyes darkened, and I was surprised he hadn’t broken through the doorframe from how hard he pushed against it.

“Say the words. I need to hear them. No misunderstandings between us, ever.”

My entire body was damn near humming, and he hadn’t even touched me yet. “I want you, Paxton.”

He lowered his arms slowly and, keeping my eyes locked with his, stalked me with lethal grace. I held my ground, my heart pounding harder with each step he took, like my body had Paxton radar, and it was blaring the sweetest alarm.

He didn’t stop until his mouth was on mine, kissing me breathless, turning my mind—and my knees—to mush. My hands tunneled through his hair, and he grabbed my ass, lifting me against his chest. His grip shifted to my thighs as he ran his lips down my neck, and I locked my ankles around his waist.

And shit…there went his towel.

Paxton was naked, gloriously, fully naked, and I wasn’t even in a position to appreciate it. I settled for second best, running my hands down his sculpted back—until I found myself on mine, sinking into the soft bed with his delicious weight on top of me.

“You lost your towel,” I told him as he nibbled at my collarbone.

“I did,” he answered, his hands squeezing my thighs with just the right amount of pressure. His thumbs snuck under my shorts, so high on my upper thigh that he brushed my panties.

“We… We have to…” There was something, I knew it, but I just didn’t care. Not when he ran his hands to my waist and then under my shirt, dragging the fabric up.

“We have to what?” he asked, his mouth at my ear. His tongue traced the shell, and I groaned. He had a way of finding spots I never even realized were so sensitive.

“Movie. We’re supposed to watch a movie,” I managed to get out.

He slid down my body, trailing kisses up my bare stomach, leaving chills in his wake as he reached where my shirt pooled at my bra line. “I’d rather watch you come a few times.”

A few? “Feeling ambitious tonight, are we?” I asked, my hips moving of their own accord. I nearly groaned when they brushed his erection.

He hissed at the contact. “Just stating the truth.”

“Should we do this later?” My body nearly cried at the thought of not finishing what we’d started. “I don’t want Little John to come looking.”

He kissed the underside of my jaw. “He’s not going to come looking, I promise. And if you think I honestly give a fuck that we’re missing the movie, you’re sorely mistaken. I’d miss every movie for the rest of my life if it meant I got to touch you. Unless you’ve changed your mind?” He tensed above me.

“No,” I reassured him. “Never.”

Without looking away, he raised my shirt over my head, and I eagerly lifted my arms to help. “Thank God,” he whispered, and then kissed me.

He consumed me, taking over every thought with each stroke of his tongue, each angle he used to deepen the caress. He kissed me like I was the answer to every question he’d ever had, and in turn, I held nothing back.

He unhooked my bra with a snap of his fingers, and then he slipped it down my arms so it could join my shirt on the floor. When he lowered himself to kiss me again, we were skin-to-skin, and the contact was enough to send flames licking down my body, pooling the heat between my thighs.

He groaned. “You feel incredible,” he said with one last pull at my lower lip. Then his lips trailed a path to my breasts, where he took one hardened nipple into his warm mouth.

I sucked in a breath and arched against his mouth, craving more and knowing he could deliver it.

My hands found his hair, his shoulders, anything that could anchor me as pure sensation took over. There was nothing but Paxton, and that was perfection in itself. He moved to the other breast, his hands never ceasing their movement between my waistline and neck, bringing every nerve ending to life with his touch.

He made me feel worshipped, adored, and I loved him all the more for it.

I pulled gently on his hair, and he looked into my eyes, dragging his tongue over my nipple. Pleasure rushed through me. He made it so easy to want him.

I twisted my legs, and he gave in to my silent demand, rolling over so I knelt on top of him, his hips between my knees. His hands flexed on my thighs, subtly digging in to the muscle as I traced the line of his dragon tattoo, looking up to watch his eyes darken as I reached the tip of its tail.