Dear Bailey

Part 62

Bailey

His hands moved across my body like he knew every part of me. His eyes were hazy, but focused on my skin, moving along the curves while his fingers lightly brushed the exposed areas. I should have been cold, it was freezing outside that hotel room, but inside it was hot. Even more, inside my body I was on fire and Lucas was the kerosene. Everywhere that his hands touched heated and flushed.

My hands gripped the lapels of his thick jacket and began to release the buttons one by one. Beneath it was an undershirt, and when I finally managed to slide the jacket from his arms, the shirt stretched across his chest like a second skin. I'd never seen anything as sexy as the man in front of me. As I pulled the undershirt from his pants, his hands caressed my back and drew a sensual path to my bra. With one quick motion, it was unfastened and his fingertips danced lightly on my shoulders as if waiting for permission to slide it off.

Taking clothes off could be rushed, or it could be the slowest form of heavenly torture. Lucas was torturing me. As the straps fell down my arms, his strong hands held on to me, sliding along my skin until the bra was no more. My eyes moved up and found his staring down on me. "You're beautiful," he admired. "So fucking perfect." His hand gripped the back of my neck and pulled me into a kiss that burned all the way to my core. I felt his words.

With a little bit of playful tugging, I pulled away from the kiss and lifted his undershirt from his body. Oh. My. God. He was impeccable. I couldn't have dreamt him up even in my wildest dreams. His skin was smooth and tan, taunt over the hard, built muscles beneath. My hands moved without thought, dragging my nails slightly along the unmarred surface, which rose and fell quickly with each labored intake of breath. He was having trouble breathing too. It seemed like the oxygen was gone from the room and the tension between us was heavy and thick.

"I didn't think it could be like this," I confessed, tucking my hands into his waistline and pulling to release the button.

"It's only like this for us," he exhaled, moving to work on my pants too. His were undone, and I had begun to push them down his hips. He chuckled softly and the sound was so sexy it sent a chill up my spine. "You won't be able to get them off over my boots."

I bit my lip and nodded my head. "Mine either," I laughed. He spun me around and moved me back towards the bed until my calves touched the mattress. With one more dominating move, he gently pushed me back onto it.

"I'll take them off for us." He watched me lying there with a heated stare as he quickly took off his boots and socks. The he took off mine. I watched each flex of his muscle and the way his eyes only left mine for a second to untie or tug at the boots. They always came back to me like he was afraid I'd disappear if they were gone too long.

He stood over me, pants loose at his waist and looked down. He bent over and put one hand on the bed, then used the other to touch me again, exploring every curve while in this new position. When he reached my waist again, he used both hands to take off my pants, my panties moving along with them. I was naked and bared to him, but I never felt the need to cover up, or shy away. I could see how much he liked what he saw and felt comfortable in the moment.

He stood, pushing his pants and boxers down and tossing them off to the side. It was just us now. And though we only had a few hours of history in each other's company, it was as if we'd known each other all our lives. "Move up," he said with a lift of his chin and I pushed myself back and up to the pillows. He climbed over me and helped to pull back the covers beneath my body. The white crisp sheets felt cool against my heated flesh, but the most intense feeling was the way it felt when his body was finally on top of mine.