I was left in nothing but lace, the cool air of the room hitting my skin—but I wasn't cold. Not with the way he was looking at me.
His hands moved to the front clasp of my bra. He knew exactly how it worked; he'd bought it for me, after all. With a deft flick of his thumb, the hook gave way. My breasts spilled into his palms, the reflection in the mirror catching every inch of the transition. My pink pebbles tightening under his heated gaze.
Kieran's breath hitched. He didn't say a word.
He leaned in, his lips finding mine in a kiss that tasted of hunger and possessiveness. While his tongue tangled with mine, his hands were busy, molding and weighing me as if he were memorizing my shape all over again. He broke the kiss only to trail his lips down my neck, his stubble a delicious friction against my collarbone.
"Kieran…" I gasped, my head falling back.
