I shiver and my breath catches, but he leans in to press another kiss to my lips. “You’ll have to forgive my inexperience.” “You’ll have to forgive mine—” I begin, but his gentle hand slips under my robe, and my back arches into his touch, and I find I can’t think at all. “I’ve heard many stories,” he says against my cheek, his voice teasing as he drags his teeth along my jaw. “You read so very many books.” His thumb strokes against a sensitive bit of skin, and I gasp again. He draws back enough to find my eyes, and he smiles. “Surely, we can figure it out.”
jesus christ i dont know how to breathe
