39

Aiden grips each of my thighs, spreads them wide, and lowers himself between them. For long seconds, he just studies me. I’m glad I always keep it shaved down there. I can’t get a clear look at him, but I can feel him. His harsh breaths. The heavy rise and fall of his shoulders. His brute strength gripping both my thighs to keep me spread-eagled for his eyes. He’s only watching me, but that’s enough for a primal sensation to hit me. It’s like he’s burning and melting me with his gaze. “Aiden…” I don’t know why I call his name. All I know is that I can’t bear the suffocating tension. “Hmm. You’re wet.” He releases a thigh to trace a thumb up my folds. “Were you wet since I kissed you? Or after I threw you on the bed?” “I… I don’t know.” “I love kissing you.” So do I. Damn me, so do I. “Your lips were made for me, sweetheart.” He pauses. “Everything about you was made for me.” He places a chaste kiss on my folds. The contact is so intimate, so… crude that a shudder crawls down my spine.