Ex- fiance'd Regret

Lydia Alison

Five Years Ago

"Are you kidding me?" Lydia cried, glowering at Pete.

He leaned back in his chair, calm as a cucumber, as if he hadn't just broken her whole world.

"Come on, babe. It's better this way."

Lydia shook her head. She couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that Pete had taken her out on a break-up date. Who breaks up on a date?

"How is it better?" she asked, trying not to let her voice tremble or to sound like she was going to cry. Which was exactly what she felt like doing. "We've been together for two years, and you're just throwing it all away."

"I'm not throwing it all away, babe." He leaned forward, reaching for her hand over the table.

"Don't call me that," she snapped, pulling her hand away from his. "You're dumping me. You can go right back to using my name."

"Fine, Lydia Alison," Pete said with her name tasting bitter in his mouth. "I'm being nice here, and you're not being very receptive to me right now."

Lydia snorted a sarcastic bark of laughter. "You're right, what a thoughtless thing to do. I'll take notes so the next time you dump me, I'm more polite about it."

He sighed heavily. "Don't be like this."

Lydia crossed her arms over her chest. "I'll be however the hell I choose. You don't get to make demands anymore."

He shrugged. "Okay. Sure. I guess you're right."

Damn straight she was right. Pete was dumping her. Lydia suddenly realized there was no reason she had to be here. He'd said his piece-they were over. He'd already explained that he wasn't ready to make a commitment. There was nothing left for her to do or say here.

Lydia stood to leave.

"Wait," Pete said. "We're not going Dutch on the check?"

Her mouth dropped open. "Get the check yourself, asshole," she spat and turned on him.

Lydia held back her tears until she'd reached the door of the bar where they'd gotten together, and at least halfway down the street to the bus stop. When the tears did spill down her cheeks, a sob racked her throat.

She pulled out her phone and called Deby.

"He dumped me," Lydia wailed into the phone.

"Whatever?" Lydia, my God!

"I know," she said. "He bought me a drink. We shared a beer, then we ordered the greasy pub food I love so much. And then he dumped me. After we'd spent a nice afternoon together."

"I don't believe it," Deby said. "I have to involve Silver in this conversation, too."

Lydia nodded, allowing Deby to dial Silver in on the call so they were on three-way. Her two best friends were saints, always there when shit hit the fan.

And shit had just hit the fan big time.

They'd all attended college as a group. Lydia was an art major, Deby communications and Silver to become a teacher but they'd roomed together the first year and they'd been locked at the hip ever since.

"Lydia, are you okay?" Silver asked when she hopped on the line. "Deby said she talked to you before she put me through."

"I'm fine," Lydia lied. She felt like collapsing on the curb in a puddle of tears.

"He doesn't deserve you," Silver said fiercely.

"I left him with the bill this time. We always split it," Lydia said. For some reason or other, she felt bad about doing that. But that was her problem-she was too nice. She always seemed to get walked on because she was nice and she didn't want people to have to go out of their way for her. So, she ended up putting herself last.

All the time.

She had been a secondary character in her own story when she should have been the spotlight lady who received all the attention. And this just confirmed it. Not even Pete wanted to go out with her anymore.

"It's good you made him suffer," Deby said. "I wish you could have gotten back at him more, really made his life miserable somehow."

Silver agreed.

"Don't want to make his life hell," said Lydia. "Just... have to move on."

That wasn't going to be easy. Lydia was in love with Pete. Hell, until half an hour ago, she hadn't even realized something was wrong between them. She was just starting her last year of college, and he graduated last year. They were seriously thinking of moving in together, finding out what the rest of their lives were like. Lydia had been ready to do the long-term thing with him.

And he hadn't managed to see beyond today.

Lydia swallowed a sob.

"Do you know what you need?" Deby asked. "A rebound," she went on before Lydia could guess. "You need to go out and get into bed with some hottie who will make you forget all about that idiot."

"Fantastic idea! Don't waste any time on that loser," Silver agreed enthusiastically.

"I don't know, you guys..." Lydia wasn't exactly the kind of girl who slept around. She was a long-term relationship girl to the core. One-night stands didn't do it for her.

"We should go out," Silver said. "We can get you drunk on alcohol. When you're too drunk to decide if the guy's hot enough to bring home, we'll decide for you." She was triumphant-sounding.

"I'm working tonight," Lydia said.

She walked up to the bus stop and glanced around at the other people waiting to catch the bus. There were only two. One listened to earphones in his head, and wouldn't give heed to her conversation. The other read a book.

"Come on," Deby grumbled. "Call off your shift."

"I can't do that. Besides, I'm saving up money for..." Lydia didn't know how to finish that sentence. She'd been saving up money so that Pete and she could get a place after college. Now, that wasn't going to happen. But she would still need a place to stay, whether it was with him or not. Her stomach turned and she felt sick. God, all of this was so unexpected. And so unfair.

The bus rumbled toward them.

"I have to go," Lydia said. "I'm working my shift, and then I'm going to bed. We'll talk tomorrow."

The girls grumbled that they couldn't take her out for a little while longer, but the next thing Lydia knew, they had backed down, and she hung up on them. She boarded the bus, numb, and sat in one of the seats at the back. She leaned her head on the glass and let the city roll by as the bus made its way through the streets of Los Angeles, taking her home to her student housing.

Her shift at Café Noir started at five and went on until one in the morning. The café itself was a small place during the day, offering food and hand-brewed coffee. At night, they rolled out the cocktail menus and craft beers, and the patrons shifted from sober daytime professionals to raucous students.

Lydia loved working there-it was always a great mood, and because she'd been working at the café almost as long as she'd been going to classes, it felt like a home away from home.

"Hi, Lydia," her coworker Xender greeted when she came to start her shift and he concluded his. "You okay? You look..."

"I'm fine," Lydia answered before he could say the rest of his words. "Just a tough week with classes and exams."

You've got some days off later on, don't you? Then you can have a rest," he said to her.

"Yeah, that's right," Lydia said agreeably, and he smiled in sympathy at her before he left.

Lydia moved over to the counter, ready to wait on the customers coming in for the late afternoon rush, and tried not to think of Pete at all.

It would not be good if she cried over a person's coffee. That was simply unprofessional.

Time went by and orders changed from coffee to cocktails as dinner orders started coming in. Lydia rushed, back and forth, focused on work so that she did not have to even think about anything else. Her thoughts kept drifting toward Pete, and when she forced it away, she was thinking of what Deby and Silver had suggested-a rebound. But she could not do that.

Could she?

Lydia had been in a two-year relationship until today. She'd been envisioning the future. Her mind had been looking ahead of her, not at what she could have now, and not at getting her physical needs. Instant gratification was not even on her radar.

She felt as though the rug had been pulled out from under her.

Two black coffees, and the best stout you have available," a soft voice said. Lydia looked up.

Oh. My. God.

Blue eyes that rivaled anything she'd ever laid eyes on cut through her, and they sat atop a face that would have only been sculpted by angels. He was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, with sun-tanned skin that made him look as though he jogged along the beach in the mornings, broad shoulders, a sense of confidence, and a smile on his face that flipped her stomach.

"Right behind you," Lydia managed to get out, which was a damn miracle because Mr. Hot-as-Hell's look had rendered her speechless. She turned her back to him and started getting his order ready. Two coffees and a stout-that was the order, right? Good thing he'd talked before she'd seen his face because she wouldn't have been able to hear what he said.

What was the matter with her? She didn't usually see blokes like him. But if blokes were like him, she's sure she would have looked twice. Relationship or not.

As she'd put the two coffees down on the counter,

He smiled at her and her heart juddered.

"Let me just get that beer," said Lydia.

He nodded, and Lydia made her way over to the beer taps to dispense the stout. She grabbed the pint glass and carried it over to the counter and set it down, calculating the price in her head.

He pulled out a thick wad of bills and smiled at her again. Cue butterflies.

"Keep the change," he said.

Thanks. Here you are," Lydia said, offering him a tray to hold the coffee and the beer so he would not have to carry them all.

"Thanks," he said. He gave her that smile and walked away.

The encounter had been simple enough. But Lydia shivered, her stomach knotting once more, and she observed him approaching another table with another man and a woman.

Her stomach dropped a little. Was he already taken?

Lydia sneaked glances at him throughout the rest of the evening as she worked, watching his crew's body language. They were far enough away from the counter that she couldn't quite hear what they were saying, and the more the night revved up and hectic she got, the less she could monitor them. But eventually, the other man leaned in and kissed the girl, and Lydia was somehow satisfied.

They were a couple. Mr. Dreamy was a third wheel. Which didn't necessarily mean he was unattached-a guy that adorable has got to have some sort of supermodel girlfriend. But still, a girl could dream.

They rose and left, and Lydia's stomach dropped once more when the table was empty. She would've adored even to get in a word with him again.

But guys like him didn't get taken in by girls like her.

Just as good. She never had to get hurt one more time.

It would have been wonderful, though, if at least something in her life worked out the way things did in the movies. Because she'd lost her happily-ever-after and all already, she was due some sort of good luck.

Lydia wiped down the counter while waiting for the next person to order. It was almost midnight and it was almost dead. They were in the process of closing up. And then she had to linger and assist with cleaning up before going home.

Someone came up to the counter and cleared his throat.

As Lydia glanced up, she stood immobile. Again, she was caught by Mr. Cdik Eyes' stare.

Henry Luther

Shit, she was adorbs. Not just adorbs, smoldering hot, too. But there was something in the way she looked at him, the way her mouth perpetually seemed on the brink of curving into a smile, that made him go over to her.

"Hey, Lydia," Henry spoke up as she raised her eyes to his, blinking as if he were an apparition.

She'd gazed down at her name tag, where he'd learned her lovely name. And then she'd gazed up at him.

"Hello," she'd said. "Would you like. could I get you something? I think we close our kitchen now, but..." She'd looked over her shoulder at the kitchen. She was nervous, and that just made her prettier.

And she was already beautiful, with fire-red hair spilling over her shoulder in soft waves, and large brown, round eyes that dared him to fall into them.

"Yeah," Henry answered. "Your number."

She blinked at him. "What?

"He's a little forward," Henry said. "Sorry about that. You're just the most beautiful thing he's seen in a long, long time. And he can't pass up the opportunity to spend some time with you."

She blinked at him before her cheeks flushed.

"I'm not a thing," she bristled.

Henry laughed. Oh, God. Feisty, too. She was the whole package.

"He just said you're pretty, and all you got was that he said thing?"

She shrugged. "I don't like being treated like the staff."

Henry laughed again. "He wasn't trying to treat you like the staff. Bad choice of words. You're the most beautiful woman he's seen in a very long time. Better?"

She bit her lip, then nodded self-consciously.

Shit. Already, she was getting him out of his head. Henry smiled.

"And he'd like to spend some time with you. Would you care to have a drink with him?"

She hesitated.

"There's still time before you close, isn't there?" Henry asked.

"I'm not supposed to drink while I work," she said.

"Who's going to know?" Henry asked. "We're the only ones here."

As she looked around, she saw he was right. There weren't any other customers remaining. Everyone else had shut down and gone home. It was five minutes to twelve, and there was still plenty of time to serve a few more beers.

She replayed it in her mind, Henry could see she was thinking. And it was bloody hot.

"Okay," she finally said.

Henry grinned at her. "Okay."

She disappeared and a moment later, she returned with two beers.

They walked over to the table where Henry sat with his college buddy, Savon, and his girlfriend, Heppie.

"So, Lydia," Henry welcomed them as they sat down.

"Most people call me Lydia," she answered. "The name tag is formal." She touched her fingers to the tag on her chest.

"Savon."

She smiled. "Hi, Henry."

Henry smiled at the pronunciation of his name from her lips.

"So, Lydia, what do you do? Besides working here?"

"I'm a student," she said. "Majoring in art."

Henry whistled between his teeth. "That's impressive."

"Is it?

"Surely," said Henry. She blushed at the compliment. He only admired a great deal of art students. It was a difficult career-it was all about passion to them because most of them did not advance very far in the career of art. Studying money out of something like that, regardless of how much you were passionate about it, was not simple.

"What about you?" she asked.

He graduated from college last year. He's just completing an internship now.

"So, what are you going to do, then?" she asked.

Henry gulped beer. "Business school."

"Seriously?"

Henry nodded. "He wants to make a difference, you know? But not in the way most people say they want to."

"How, then?"

"Gourmet food."

She laughed, and Henry was done. He could get addicted to that sound.

Hey, she replied, nudging him lightly in the shoulder and savoring the touch.

Good food brings people together. And it makes a profitable business, too.

"I agree with your passion. Where is your school?"

"New York."

Did he hallucinate, or did her face droop?

Henry was departing for New York City in two days to start graduate school. He'd worked long and hard to get where he was at, and he'd work even harder when he got to the Big Apple.

"When do you leave?" she asked.

Henry paused, deciding whether or not to tell her. He didn't want to scare her off.

"In two days."

Her eyes widened. "Oh, soon."

Henry nodded.

Leaving was bittersweet. He loved LA, but he needed to take this next step. An MBA would open a lot of doors for him. And he had big plans.

"Well, he's sure you'll do well in grad school," Lydia said. "It sounds like you're passionate about your future business."

Henry nodded. "Absolutely. What's the point if there's no passion?"

"Only so," she said. "Which is why I'm doing art, despite what I know everybody else has to say about it."

"He thinks it's noble," Henry said. "What kind of art do you do?"

"I paint," she said, her eyes brightening.

"Ah. What do you prefer to paint?"

"Anything," she said, spinning a lock of her fiery hair. "Landscapes, abstract. But portraits are the best. I adore people's faces. They always say something."

She smiled up at him. Her eyes were mesmerizing. Henry knew he was departing shortly, but he had to get to know her better. Something about her beckoned him, urged him to step closer, to find out what made her tick.

"Are you single?" Henry asked.

His query took him as aback as it did her.

"Yeah," she said, and a something flashed across her face too quickly for him to read.

"Lucky him," Henry said and grinned at her.

She laughed, and it was beautiful. Deep and rich and real.

"Yeah, I guess you are."

Henry took a swallow of his beer. "So, what do you do when you're not waiting tables at Café Noir or creating art?"

"Being a full-time student and working take up most of my time," she admitted.

"What are you doing tonight?" asked Henry.

She shrugged. "After locking up and erasing all evidence of my disobeying the rules tonight-" she winked at him "-I'm probably going home and getting a good night's sleep so that I'm up early for classes again tomorrow."

"That's too bad," said Henry.

"So why?"

"Because he was hoping you'd come out with him to celebrate."

She blinked at him. "What are we celebrating?"

"The fact that he met the most beautiful woman he's ever seen." Henry grinned at her and watched as she went bright red.

"Oh, you are smooth, Henry. But meeting me is hardly worth celebrating."

"Oh, Lydia," Henry said, leaning in. "Have you seen you?"

She blushed again and Henry leaned in, putting his hand on her arm. He couldn't help himself. She was drawn to him.

"So, what do you say?" Henry asked. "When you're done here, would you like to go with him?"

"Where are we going?" she asked, her breathy voice barely audible.

"Wherever you'd like."

"For someone as put together as you are, I'd think you'd have an answer for that question already," she said.

Henry laughed. "You think he looks put together?"

"Don't you?" she asked. "I mean, look at you." She slid her eyes over his body, and Henry relished the way she looked at him. "You're definitely the type of guy to command a boardroom."

Henry laughed. "Is it that obvious that he's a business major? He couldn't pass for a carpenter, or a lumberjack?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? A lumberjack? I can just picture you in plaid and boots, looking up at a tree, wondering how much you'll have to bribe it to topple over for you."

Henry erupted into laughter. "Bribe it?

Well, I can see you exercise," she stammered, blushing. "But your hands aren't calloused like those of a man who runs a chainsaw as a livelihood." She grasped his hand and enclosed both her hands over his. At contact, electricity flashed between them and Henry's breath caught in his throat. She gazed up at him before inspecting his hand.

Henry liked the feel of her hands on him, her skin smooth and soft, and her fingers dexterous. She had paint spots on her hands, and the spots were adorable.

Henry edged closer so that their heads were noses bent together, studying his hand.

"So, you believe he'll be better at doing deals than felling trees?" Henry asked. His voice was a bit rough.

She gazed up at him again and her face was inches away from his, he could see the flecks of gold glinting in those big brown eyes.

"Yeah. And it's good for the planet."

Henry laughed. He could smell her shampoo on her hair. He lifted his other hand and brushed her hair from behind her ear. Her eyes were locked on his, and when he leaned forward to kiss her, she closed them.

When their lips met, the same incredible electrical tingling happened to him that had when she'd kissed his hand. He pushed his tongue into her mouth and she moaned softly.

The moan was erotic and sent his cock into harden in his pants.

Henry wrapped his fingers around her cheek and kissed her more forcefully, trying to show her the effect she was having. He put his hands on her back and slid them up over her shoulders and into her hair as he pulled her into him. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders. He breathed in his scent, which made him dizzy.

When they finally broke apart from each other to look into the other's faces, she was breathing hard as though she'd run a mile and her eyes were darker and deeper. Her lips were slightly parted.

"Go home with him," Henry counseled.

She moved back a little.

Shit, did he ruin it?

"I have to clean up and close the café," she said.

Henry nodded. "He'll help you."

They stayed there. Everyone else had left, and Henry helped her close up. They tipped the chairs onto the tables for the cleaning people to clean next morning, wiped down the counters, and she turned on the large industrial dishwasher that someone had initiated previously.

All the while, Henry could not take his eyes off her. He watched her work, trailing behind her as they did. She was lovely and poised, doing everything slowly, as if it actually mattered. Her bright red hair flowed down her back like a fire as she worked in the dim lighting. When she glanced at him occasionally, her eyes were deep. Her face suggested she was as eager to get out of here as he was.

When she'd finished the shop and had locked the door behind her, she turned to him.

"I don't do this," she stated.

"Help clean up the shop?"

She laughed. "No. Go home with a man I've just met. It's not typically. my style."

"Okay," Henry answered. What if she changed her mind? He needed her so much, but he did not want to persuade her to do something she did not want to. "Are you sure that you want to do this?"

"Yes, I am. But I just wanted you to know it."

Henry nodded. "Removed. And he's thankful."

She nodded, too.

"So, which way?" she asked.

Henry took her hand and brought it to his lips, pushing his mouth against her knuckles.

"This way," Henry breathed and led her to his car.

Lydia Alison

She was going away with him.

Lydia hardly knew herself. A one-night stand?

And what was more, she'd just been through a serious relationship. That was who she was- the girl who had serious relationships.

And where had that got her?

Dumped, and humiliated because for some inexplicable reason, Pete just hadn't felt she was good enough to make a commitment to.

And that was totally rubbish.

Maybe she was not one of the girls who walked around campus, who had lots of friends and huge trust funds, but she did have a few things going for her.

And Henry could tell that. He treated her like she was worth something.

Lydia knew that for an extremely long period of time, Pete had made her feel like she wasn't worth anything. She'd just been so caught up in their picture of 'forever' that she hadn't even known how he'd started to ignore her, and how he'd started to treat her like she was a maybe to him, when he'd been a definitely to her for so long.

Henry looked at her as if she was the sole female in the entire world. Although only for this evening, the manner in which he behaved made her feel better.

They drove with the windows open. He edged his hand up along her leg and intertwined his fingers with hers. It was warm, yet sweet, as well. Everything that he did, every little thing, was perfect.

His vehicle was nice. Expensive, but not ostentatious. Lydia liked that about him-he was obviously further up on the economic hierarchy, and he had at least a couple of doors already ahead of him in life. But he didn't let her think it made him. He didn't flaunt it or make her feel like he was only using it to sleep with her.

And that made her want to crawl into bed with him all the more.

However, Henry was a stranger. And Lydia did not go home with strangers. She had always had the notion that going home with strangers meant trouble. But remembering Pete, she knew that even though she had thought that she knew him all this while, it so happened that she had not really known him that well. She would have never guessed that he would go and abandon something they had worked on for so long...

For no reason whatsoever.

And Henry... there was something about him that made him feel like he wasn't a stranger at all. When they talked, it was like he knew her. And Lydia hadn't had that with anyone.

Not with Pete, and not with any of the men she'd dated before him.

Not even with her girlfriends, if she was being truthful. Not like this.

Lydia had just always figured it was because she was an artist. A little weird like everyone else. She had never thought that someone would actually understand her.

But Henry did.

And Lydia was not about to let him go.

So when he had asked her to come home with him, the only answer that had made sense was 'yes.'

They arrived at his apartment and he opened the door and invited her in ahead of him.

"Oh," Lydia said when he turned on the lights and she looked around. "This apartment doesn't look at all like my student apartment."

Her flat was a bit dingy, with water-spotted ceiling, an oven that she had to wedge open with a broomstick, and a door that she had to apply body weight to get open or shut if she wanted in or out.

Henry's apartment was nicely decorated with smooth modern designer furniture, and it smelled of fresh, manly cleanliness.

Henry was chuckling as Lydia stared at the apartment.

"It's not much, but it's home."

"Are you kidding me?" Lydia said. "If that's your idea of 'not much,' I don't want to see what the rest of your life will be like when you're some zany business mogul."

Lydia shrugged off her coat and Henry took it from her. A real gentleman.

He laughed. "You think he's going to be a business mogul?"

"Oh, yes," Lydia said.

He certainly looked the part. She was pretty sure he would be drop-dead gorgeous in a designer suit.

He was already jump-his-bones hot.

All he needed was to take that commanding air a step further and he was going to be everything.

He cupped her cheek, his face close to hers.

"You're staring," he mumbled, his lips so close to hers Lydia could barely concentrate on the words he was speaking.

"You're distracting," Lydia said.

She sounded like a fool. But he chuckled, and his voice was thick and smooth and it caressed her skin like honey.

When he kissed her, it was just as intense as it had been at the café when he'd kissed her, but this time it was different. There was so much more passion that lay behind it. So much more desire. He crushed the length of his body against hers, and she could feel the shape in his pants, testament to his growing desire for her.

And God, Lydia wanted him. He was nice and handsome and confident-exactly the sort of man she never expected to fall for. And, as a bonus, he wanted her too.

Lydia felt it all the way down to his boxers, where his dick strained against his pants to find her.

It was a blaze igniting her body as he thrashed against her. Her gut knotted. Lydia was wet for him.

God, so wet.

Henry ended the kiss and gazed at her.

"Can he get you something to drink?" he asked.

Was he kidding? Lydia didn't need anything to drink. Or eat. Or anything that wasn't him naked and on top of her.

Lydia flushed with herself for remembering such things about a total stranger.

But then again, he didn't quite feel like one to her either.

Lydia shook her head and kissed him, running her hands across his chest.

He laughed into her mouth and pulled her against him. His hands moved onto her ass, and he lifted her off the floor. Lydia yelped. He scooped her up like she was lighter than air, and when she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, she felt the muscles harden as he bore the weight. Lydia wrapped her legs around his waist and he carried her into the bedroom. His tongue was in her mouth again and Lydia moaned softly, dimly sensing the apartment through the fog of lust as he urged her into the bedroom.

He didn't bother to flip on the lights-the bedroom was filled with light from seeping from the other rooms-and he shoved her onto the bed. Lydia laughed for no reason afterward. She was intoxicated with lust. He smiled at her.

He was on her in a second, kissing her, his fingers probing her body, caressing her, tracing the contours of her with his fingers.

He pulled up her shirt, exposing her bra, and bent his head to her chest. He kissed down the length of her bra cup, leaving a path of flames down the soft flesh of her breasts.

Lydia drew her top over her head, and strained back when Henry tried to come around her. He unbuckled her bra and drew it away from her, and Lydia stood before him, topless.

For a moment, Lydia was shy. No matter how immediately close she felt to him, he was still unknown to her. And she was suddenly as good as naked. His eyes slid over her breasts and then back to her face.

"You're gorgeous," he said.

Lydia blushed and he leaned forward to kiss her. He took hold of her left breast, his fingers firm and confident, and had a very clear idea of what he desired. Lydia moaned as he manipulated her breast, his fingers finding her rigid nipple, and rolled it with his thumb and forefinger.

Lydia gasped and moaned, his sensitivity to her breast causing shudders through her pussy, making her even more moist.

Henry bent his head, breaking the kiss, and his lips captured her right nipple. He drew it into his mouth and Lydia gasped as he sucked and tongued her, holding her between his hand on one and his mouth on the other.

For a second, all Lydia could do was get lost in the sensation of Henry loving her body. He made her feel incredible. And they hadn't even reached the below-the-belt boundary yet-Henry was still wearing pants and Lydia was still wearing hers.

As if he knew Lydia had been thinking about it, Henry started making a journey down her body, kissing his way along her belly. His fingers moved quickly to unbutton her jeans, and he slowly pushed them down her legs, unwrapping her like a gift. Slowly. Sensually, mouth-wateringly.

His fingers seared against the flesh of her skin when he took off her jeans and mapped his hands down her legs. He opened her thighs and blew hot breath across her.