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Erik stares at me for a second. Something he sees makes his gaze heat with desire. Then he smiles. “Well. I always said I’d give you anything you want.”

Before I can respond, he pulls off my shirt and tosses it aside.

The air-conditioned air makes goosebumps prickle across my skin. My nipples go taut, clearly visible through my bra.

“You’re cold,” Erik says as his gaze roves across my chest. “Let me fix that.”

Then he lowers his mouth to cover one nipple while his fingers pluck at the other. His tongue laps and laves, his teeth lightly grazing my sensitive skin. His magic fingers manage to keep the other one warm just as well, as he flicks and strokes until I’m arching towards him, desperate for more.

Heat is coiling inside me, building in pressure. My core aches. Without thought, I rub myself against Erik’s straining erection, feeling myself opening for him. Getting wetter. Even more sensitive.

Erik’s big hand palms my back, holding me up when my head falls back, the pleasure already too much. I’m awash in a flood of sensation. Tossed around in a storm of need.

As my eyes fall closed, Erik releases my nipple with a little pop and groans, “Fuck, Tate. You’re so damn gorgeous. Every inch of you.”

He lifts me off him and lays me out on the couch. Then he unbuttons my shorts and peels them down my legs, his fingers leaving trails of electricity in their wake. My skin tingles, not from the cold, but from the need pulsing through me. From the way he sets me on fire just from his touch.

I pry my eyes open just in time to see Erik pull off his shirt. And oh, my, am I glad I did.

It’s not the first time I’ve seen him without a shirt on, not even close, but I don’t think it’ll ever get old. Not when there’s so much perfection to look at.

His chest is thick with muscle, all flat planes and ridges and golden skin lightly dusted with bronzed hair. As he moves, his stomach flexes, showing off his ten pack—and yes, I’m positive, because I’ve counted more than once. The intricate designs of his tattoos move in concert with his muscles, bringing the dragon on his ribcage and the eagle on his chest to life.

I watch with greedy eyes as he yanks off his pants, feeling my core clench when his erection springs free, thick and slick and jutting towards me.

“I know I should go slow,” Erik says. “But fuck. Thinking about you the whole time I was gone, worrying… And now, hearing you say you love me—I don’t know if I can wait. I just want to be inside you.”

I hold his gaze as I wriggle out of my panties. Then as I unfasten my bra.

His eyes go nearly black as he takes me in, fully naked and stretched out in front of him. “Maybe I don’t want to go slow,”I tell him huskily. Then I reach between my legs, finding my exposed bud, and rub it.

“Tate,” he breathes. “Ah, shit. Do you even know how fucking sexy that is?”

“Is it?” I shoot him an innocent look. “I’m just so impatient to feel you inside me. Filling me. Making me feel?—”

On a low growl, Erik pounces.

He does that unbelievably sexy move where he braces himself above me, his biceps flexing and veins standing out. His Special Forces tattoo expands and constricts as he moves. He lowers his mouth to my neck and sucks at it, hard enough to leave a slight mark.

It’s just a tiny flare of pain, but it’s the perfect complement to my pleasure.

And aside from that, I like knowing he marked me. Claimed me. That I bear the evidence of his desire.

From the look in his eyes, Erik likes it too. A satisfied smile teases his lips before he brushes his lips to the sensitive mark once again. “I hope you don’t mind,” he says. “But seeing you like this, knowing you’re wearing my mark?—”

“I like it. A lot.”

To emphasize, I raise up on my elbows so I can reach his chest. Then I press my lips to it, just above his heart, and suck hard. Erik moans. Grits out, “Fuck, Tate. That feels so damn… Anytime you want to leave a mark, do it. I want you to.”

And it does feel good. Seeing it there. It’s small. Faint. But I did it. Marked Erik as mine, just as he did to me.

Though I’ve never given someone a visible hickey, and never even considered it once I got past the age of twenty, the idea suddenly seems more appealing. I won’t do it, but I like the image of Erik wearing something that tells all other women to keep their hands off.

Whoah.

Where did this jealous Tatum come from? The one who wants to boldly claim her man?

Except I’m not really jealous, because I know, even now, that Erik wouldn’t dream of looking at another woman. He doesn’t have to say it. I just know.