Page 76 of A Violet Obsession

“Then take off your shirt.” I don’t know where the boldness comes from but I hold my breath as he reaches back, and pulls his shirt off in one smooth motion, revealing the powerful lines of his chest and shoulders. His chest isn’t inked nearly as much as his arms. The only image is a pair of crossed knives over his heart.

A shiver runs over his body when my nails trace the defined muscles of his chest. When they skate lower, the muscles of his stomach contract, and he captures my hand when I reach his waistband, nostrils flaring.

“Your turn.”

Without the hesitation I thought I would feel, I pull the cardigan completely off but then stop, chewing my lip. There really isn’t a sexy way of taking off this dress without standing up and pulling it over my head.

“Too far?” Finn asks, misunderstanding my hesitation.

“No, I just wish I weren’t wearing this.”

Finn’s eyes heat as they fall to my breasts. “I’m pretty fond of these dresses.” He cocks his head, and the look he gives me is knowing. “Do you want me to take it off of you?”

I think I might pass out from the wave of heat sweeping over me.

“Yes or no,” his deep voice asks.

“Yes.”

He hums a sound that might be approval, and then runs his fingers over my collarbone until they reach my shoulder. “Your skin is so soft.” He bends his head, kissing the skin there as he slides the fabric off one shoulder and then the other, which leaves my arms trapped, but when he tugs down the neckline revealing my bra and sucks in a harsh breath, I no longer mind.

He’s staring at me like I’m the most desirable woman on the planet.

“I knew you’d be beautiful,” he says hoarsely, his hands framing my breasts. Suddenly, it’s like a switch has been flipped, and Finn yanks the dress lower. Before I can tell him there’s no way it’s going to fit over my hips, he’s pushing me back and the dress is gone. Cool air kisses my overheated skin as I lay in front of him in my bra and panties.

He traces one hardened nipple with a fingertip, a slow smile curving his mouth. “Let me know if you get cold.”

Cold? Is he kidding? Every inch of me burns.

I expect him to take off his pants, but he kicks off his boots and socks and lowers himself next to me on the rug. Propped on his elbow, he pulls at my fluffy socks. “I’m leaving these on because they’re adorable.”

My brow wrinkles even as his hand skates up my shin, curving around my calf.

“I don’t think adorable is what I’m going for.”

His hand continues its journey up my body, making my breath hitch as he skims over the front of my panties. But instead of stopping, he continues up, drawing lazy circles around my belly button. “Well, that’s too bad. You are adorable.”

He lifts his gaze from where he had been following his hand’s path and lightly kisses my mouth. “And sweet,” he murmurs with another kiss, “and beautiful.”

This time when he kisses me his hand roams higher, his palm cupping my breast. His thumb brushes the peaked nipple, and I gasp into his mouth.

“With a body so perfect, it’s almost hard to believe you’re real.” Reaching behind me he unhooks my bra, and I let it slide from my arms.

His mouth covers mine again, the kiss hotter and hungrier than before. When he pinches my nipple, I cry out.

“How does that feel?” he murmurs, as I arch desperately into his hand.

“Good,” I pant when he repeats the motion before giving my other breast the same attention. “So good.”

When his mouth closes over the pebbled peak, I’m not sure how much more I can take. Just as I think I might explode, he pulls back and kisses my sternum. He takes his time, kissing his way down my body, learning every sensitive spot that makes me moan. Finally, his hand dips beneath the lace, and he groans.

“You’re soaked, Butterfly.” He pulls my panties lower and helps me kick them off. When he bows his head to watch his fingers move over me, I think I’m having a heart attack.

The movement stops.

“Show me how you touch yourself,” he commands in my ear. “I want to learn exactly what you like.”

I guide his hand between my legs, too far gone to be shy, and show him the rhythm and pressure I use when I’m alone. The rough skin of his fingers glide over my clit, and I moan loudly, my hips bucking. It doesn’t take long with my fingers over his, and I’m right on the edge.