His lips found my neck, and I forgot how to breathe.

"Last chance," he whispered against my skin, his voice rough with want. "Tell me to stop."

"Never." The word came out broken, desperate.

His mouth pressed against my pulse point, and I felt his smile against my throat. Then his hands were moving, fingers trailing down my sides like he was memorizing every curve.

"You're shaking," he murmured.

"I'm nervous."

"Good nervous or bad nervous?"

I looked back at ...