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The smug look disappeared. His eyes flew to my face. “Sore?” he asked.

I shrugged.

He pointed his chin at the nearest counter. “Have a seat. Lemme see.”

I stiffened. “No, that’s okay.”

He shot me a flat stare. “It wasn’t a question.”

A jolt shot through me. Desire, sharp and powerful. With a sigh I propped my completely nude self on the vanity. He pushed my thighs apart, kneeling low between them. He studied me.

Even years of modeling hadn’t properly prepared me for this level of immodesty. And nothing could have prepared me for the intimacy of his gaze.

There were mirrors on nearly every wall of my bathroom. I glanced over at the nearest one. My face was flushed. From embarrassment, but not just that. The sight of his big naked shoulders kneeling down in front of my naked body did all sorts of things to me. So much skin. Without conscious thought my hand reached out to touch his messy hair. Without any direction from my brain, it gripped a firm handhold of the silky black waves.

He glanced up, grinning. “Was that a request?” There was a laugh in his voice.

I blushed harder, shaking my head so hard my long hair fell forward to cover half my face.

He went back to studying me, and his smile disappeared. He bit his bottom lip.

Unconsciously my hand gripped his hair harder. He looked up through his thick, too pretty lashes. It was a handsome hot look, and it worked me up in all kinds of counterproductive ways. “Hey now,” he said softly. “Enough of that. I can only take so much.”

“Sorry,” the word came out in a pant.

He went back to his task, bringing his hands up to part me oh so softly with his fingers. His breath came out in a ragged exhale that turned into a curse. “You’re very tender,” he told me. He sent me another smoldering look. “But you’re also very wet. You’re sending me mixed signals, Noura. What am I to do with you?”

His face moved closer to my sex until I could feel his every breath. “I think even my fingers are too rough for you this morning,” he murmured into my flesh.

“Probably,” I breathed back.

“Luckily I have just the trick.” He nuzzled gently into me, prodding me lightly with his tongue.

He pulled back. “How does that feel? Too much?”

I answered by gripping his hair with both hands and pushing his face back into me. He didn’t ask again. He ate me out tenderly, leisurely. His hands stayed busy elsewhere, one plucking and kneading at my breasts, the other finding its way to my mouth. His thumb rubbed back and forth across my lips, teasing.

I watched us in the mirror, the sight of what he was doing to me bringing me close to the edge every bit as much as the sensations themselves.

His fingers prodded at my mouth, and I opened for him. I sucked his fingers in and out as his lips sucked at my slit.

The act was so tender and leisurely that my orgasm caught me completely by surprise. It hit me in a gentle unfurling. My head fell back. My toes curled. I managed not to cry out his name, but it was a close thing.

After he rose up from between my legs, wiping his mouth. I was still trying to catch my breath.

He moved away.

I closed my eyes. They snapped open again when I heard something soft plop onto the marble floor. I glanced down. He’d set a pillow at his feet. Our eyes clashed. He grinned. I blushed. He pulled out his cock, fisting it.

“You want me to . . .” I began.

“If you don’t mind too terribly much.” The way he said it was excruciatingly polite and utterly irresistible. Especially with his dick in his hand.

“You didn’t seem to like it the last time,” I pointed out. “I assumed I was a hopeless cause.”

It was his turn to flush, his gaze flitting away like he couldn’t face mine all of a sudden. “The truth is, I—” he began, then paused as though choosing his next words carefully. “I didn’t mean what I said after. I was just being a shit.” He paused again. “I think about it all the time . . . your mouth on me.”

Well, well, well. The words and the way he said them were something akin to an apology. Without a doubt they were conciliatory, and they hadn’t been easy for him, I could tell, but he’d still managed to get them out. It was something. Some sort of a turning point for us, though I couldn’t have said what all it really meant just yet.