Page 57

“What is it?” Concern flashes across his face. “What’s wrong?”

My lips curve into a slow smirk, the tension in the room shifting from worry to something hungrier, especially as I slip my cardigan from my shoulders.

Joshua’s gaze follows the movement as the knit material slides down my arms and pools on the floor. Then he drags his eyes back to mine and waits for whatever I have planned next.

I never would have done something this bold in my old life. Not with Wyatt. Not ever. I’ve always been terrified of being rejected. Of not being enough. Of not being perfect.

But Hilde’s words from earlier keep nagging me.

Do one selfish thing a day.

Granted, I probably already hit that quota when I kissed Joshua. But right now, I’ve never felt so powerful. So confident. So beautiful.

I don’t want to stop feeling this way.

I want to know how it feels to choose something because I want it.

I want to be fucking selfish.

So I draw one deep breath.

Then I pull my tank top over my head, dropping it onto the floor with my cardigan.

Joshua’s gaze rakes over me, but he doesn’t move toward me. Just waits. And watches.

God, I love how he watches me.

Stepping out of my slippers, I hook my fingers into the waistband of my pajama pants and push them down my legs, kicking them to the side so I’m standing before him in nothing but my bra and panties.

“Wynter.”

My name sounds different on his lips. Rough. Reverent. Like he’s holding himself together by a single fraying thread.

His throat works, and he takes a step toward me. I give a quick shake of my head, and he stops, his gaze fixed on me. Each moment stretches, my pulse thundering in my chest as I reach behind my back.

For a split second, I almost lose my nerve.

I used to hate undressing in front of Wyatt. Used to always yank the covers higher. Used to turn off the lights when we had sex. I wasn’t always like this, but over the years, I became self-conscious of my body. It didn’t help I always caught him looking at the cheerleaders. Thin waists. Long legs. Perky breasts.

Eventually, I started looking at myself the way I imagined he did. Too soft. Too curvy. Too…imperfect.

But Joshua doesn’t look at me as if I’m too soft or curvy. He looks at me as if he can’t get enough.

So I give him more, unclasping my bra and letting it fall to the floor.

Joshua sucks in a ragged breath as he clenches and unclenches his fists.

One thing is certain.

He doesn’t look disappointed.

If anything, he looks like a man who just unwrapped the only thing he wished for this Christmas.

Emboldened by the hunger flickering in his eyes, I hook my fingers into my panties, then pause. Not because I’m uncertain. But because I like seeing the effect I have on Joshua.

His jaw tightens. The tendons in his forearms stand out. His eyes have gone nearly black.

Then I slowly slide my panties down and step out of them.