When I get to his waist, I tug on the bottom of his shirt, slipping my hand inside. His skin is so warm, and the muscles of his stomach are tight. I let my other hand wrap around his waist, slipping into the back pocket of his jeans. “Fuck—” he hisses, his fingers digging into my hair, tugging my head back. “I’m trying to be a gentleman here, and you’re being really distracting.” “You’re not guessing,” I tease. “Do you need a demonstration of my skills?” He groans again. “You…uhh. Oh, shit—” I slip my hand inside the top of his jeans, my fingers brushing over the marbled skin of his sculpted
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