I watched him glide his palms past each other, his head bowed slightly to the floor. “But I’ll sleep with you…because I want to.”
His hands stilled, and his body went rigid. Seconds later, he lifted his chin to look me in the eye again.
It was impossible not to feel a connection to this man. I’d spent my life taking care of other people, and it was the first time I had someone to take care of me, to clean up my messes, to fix all my mistakes. The second his hood had dropped and I saw his face, I had been stunned by what I saw, because he was beautiful. He was the kind of man I could never have in the real world, because he could have someone much more beautiful than me. He would chase after Melanie or someone like her. But in this different reality, we were connected by something deeper than looks. We witnessed things other people couldn’t possibly understand. He was a man who needed more than a pretty face to fulfill his desires. He needed something deeper.
He maintained his stare, his eyes different than before, giving me a look he’d never expressed in the past. It finally possessed emotion, overt reactions that were like words on a page. With deep intensity and masculine desire, he stared at me like there had never been a woman he wanted more than me.
I’d never felt so beautiful. I hadn’t worn makeup, hadn’t even combed my hair, had only worn the most unflattering clothes, but I was somehow the woman he would do anything for.
He continued that piercing look, like my answer was so powerful he didn’t know what to do with himself.
With my eyes on his, I pulled my shirt over my head. My body was slim and tight because of my physicality in the camp. I’d never been so active, so I was in the best shape of my life. But I did have some bruises and scars from my mistreatment.
He looked at me like he didn’t see anything except unblemished skin.
My boobs were firm and my nipples hard because I was instantly cold…and tense. My dark hair fell down my shoulders and over my chest, but I pushed it back so it would hang down my back, so he could look at me.
His eyes remained on my tits, and he released a deep breath, his jaw tightening slightly.
I knew my back was scarred and ugly, so I didn’t turn my back to make him it.
I untied the string to my pants then stood up so I could push them over my hips and let them slide to the floor. My legs were hairy because I hadn’t shaved in over a month. My underwear were the generic ones they issued to us, so they weren’t sexy by any means.
But his breathing increased, like he couldn’t wait to watch me take them off.
My thumbs dug into the waistband and then pulled them down, the bush of hair visible because I couldn’t groom my appearance. We weren’t allowed razors, probably because we would slice our wrists. My hair was curly and dark, covering the sight of my clit and opening.
But he didn’t seem to care in the least.
When my clothes were gone, I sat on the edge of the bed again, my knees pressed together, my hands in my lap, my nipples still hard because I was anxious. His chest would be warm against my body, and the momentary coldness would be replaced by sweat.
He stared at me for another few seconds before he unclasped his cloak and let it slide into the chair and then onto the floor. Underneath was a long-sleeved black vest with little markings in it, the fur lining the edge of the sleeves. He gripped the back of the garment and pulled it forward over his head, revealing a black shirt underneath.
I watched him, waiting to see what he looked like underneath. He looked muscular through his clothing, and now that I could see his arms, I knew how strong he was. He had big arms, with lots of different muscles that made them bulky and smooth at the same time. His skin was fair like he hadn’t seen the sun much, probably because it’d been freezing for a long time.
He did the same with his shirt, pulling it forward and revealing muscular perfection.
I inhaled a breath at the sight of him.
In the center of two strong pectoral muscles was a patch of dark hair. His stomach was carved with lines, his abs distinct and strong because there wasn’t a layer of fat on top to hide them. Even when he was sitting, he didn’t have a gut. He was ripped, with a thin line of hair below his belly button that disappeared into his pants.
My eyes roamed over his body, seeing a real man sitting before me, with muscles and hair. His collarbone popped out from his skin because he was so tight, so trim. His shoulders were muscular and broad. I’d never been with a man that looked anything like that…except in my fantasies.
I swallowed the catch in my throat before I lifted my gaze to look at him.
He studied my reaction, like he wanted to watch me want him, to see me want him as much as he wanted me. He loosened his boots and got them off before he pulled the string of his pants then rose to his feet so he could drop those next. He pushed them over his hips and thighs, his muscular legs too sculpted for the pants to just drop down like mine did. His thighs were thick with different muscles that made them tight and strong like tree trunks. They were covered with dark hair. He grabbed his black boxers
