I couldn’t take much more of this. I had to... I had to...
“Can I touch you too?” My voice was high and desperate.
“Yes.” He took my wrist and pressed my palm flush against the center of his chest, right over his heart. “Touch wherever you like. Learn me, Zoey.”
Dazed that I was actually doing this, I watched my hand, entranced as I moved it down, over his shirt. Mesmerized by the power and strength I felt rippling under the cotton, I moved back up, still unable to believe I was touching him however I pleased.
He pulled back and sat up on his haunches long enough to grasp the back of his shirt and tear it off over his head. And oh, my... My greedy hands returned to him, a little more certain, and a lot more curious.
“You’re so warm and hard, yet soft.”
“Not as soft as you.” He leaned down and kissed me again, petting his hand down my side until he reached the hem of my shirt. I was too busy delighting my way over his bulky, warm arms and thick shoulders, then pausing at the stubble on his jaw, before having a field day in his hair, to care what he did with my shirt. It didn’t even alarm me when his fingers swooped under the cloth and skimmed over the flesh at my waist. Heck, I arched my back to give him more access. He took it, moving his palm up and his mouth down until they met at my breasts. As he cupped the bottom half and kissed the top through layers of cloth, I reacted wildly, not expecting how strongly an electrical current would shoot right out the ends of my nipples, and definitely not ready to feel it deep in my core.
I clutched him, my hands curling instinctively around his back to anchor him against me. When my fingers encountered scar tissue, I faltered. Crap, I’d forgotten about his wounds. Quinn jerked and made a sound in the base of his throat as if he wasn’t quite sure how to react to my discovery.
I wanted to inspect each laceration and love them, kissing every single one of them. But now didn’t seem like the time, so I ventured south until I came to the waistband of his jeans. Needing him to know he hadn’t repulsed me in any way, I kept going, inside his jeans, under the band of his boxers and down until I cupped cool, smooth buttocks. Then I squeezed.
He groaned and bit down a little more enthusiastically onto my breast before he was whipping my shirt over my head.
For a brief moment, I panicked. What if he saw how skinny and puny I was and turned disgusted? What if—
“It’s okay,” he murmured, stroking one side of my hair as he buried his nose into the other. “You’re so beautiful. I just want to see you.” He pulled back. “Just want to worship every inch of you.”