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His dark eyes are locked on mine as he steps closer to where I sit. "I couldn't sleep," he admits. "Too many thoughts running through my head."

I know the feeling. My own mind has been a whirlwind for the past couple days, desperate for his touch yet curious about his aversion to relationships.

Instead of saying that, I reply, "I understand. I was just getting a snack." I gesture to the now-empty plate on the table in front of me.

"I see." The air between us is thick with tension, the same electric energy that's been building since the moment we met. It pulses through my veins even stronger now that we’ve crossed the line of physicality.

"Claire," he says, "About what happened on vacation..."

"What about it?" If he tries to tell me it was a mistake or that he doesn’t want to explore things with me anymore, I might implode. Especially after opening my eyes to the possibilities, letting me hope, and then—

"Are you sure you want to continue that?" he asks, interrupting my concerns. "I just want to make sure you don’t feel pressured to do anything you don’t want to."

Oh, thank God. "Yes, I do want to, and I don’t feel pressured. I want to exploreeverythingwith you." My instinct is to look away, to hide my embarrassment at speaking my desire, but I don’t. I hold his gaze, knowing how important it is for him to see that I mean what I say.

"And you’re okay with this arrangement being purelyphysical?"

"Yes," I whisper, even as I secretly hope more might come of it.

His eyes darken as he takes a step closer. He towers over me as he reaches out to cup my cheek, and I stop breathing when he brushes his thumb against my lower lip.

His expression shifts into an approving but predatory smile that sends shivers down my spine. "Good," he says. "I want to teach you something else if you’re up for it."

"What's that?"

He takes my hand, lifts me to my feet, and leans in so his lips are brushing against the shell of my ear. "I want to teach you how to suck my cock."

My eyes widen, heat rolling through my body at his words. Not knowing how else to respond, I simply nod as I stare up at him. Lying in bed with him on our vacation, it was clear how vast our size difference was, but standing here pressed against him and craning my neck upward to look into his eyes, it’s even more pronounced.

Better yet, I love the way that it makes me feel. Small but protected, delicate and at his mercy. But the best part about it is I know he’ll show me the utmost respect, so I don’t have to be afraid by giving him control.

He takes my hand, guiding me toward the living room, and I can’t help but love the way his hand envelops mine. Sitting down on the couch, he pulls me to sit beside him and keeps his eyes locked on mine.

"First," he says, "I want you to understand that this is about pleasure, for both of us. If you stop enjoying this at any point, don’t continue. Say ‘stop,’ and we will stop. I will never get upset with you if you change your mind about what we’re doing, and I trust that you’ll speak up for yourself. Okay?

"Okay."

He smiles, his hand reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "Good. Now, I want you to touch me. Explore my body, the same way you explored yours the other night. However and wherever you want."

I hesitate for a moment then reach out to trace the line of his jaw, down the curve of his neck, over the muscles of his chest. He's warm and solid beneath my touch, and the way his breathing picks up as my hand moves lower and lower affects me just as much as it seems to be affecting him.

It takes a moment before I work up the courage to trace my fingers down to the waistband of his sweatpants, and it’s impossible to ignore the massive bulge just below.

My heart races, and, as if sensing my hesitation, Mark says, "Go ahead. Touch me, baby." He hooks his fingers over the waistband and slowly pulls down his pants, exposing inch by inch of muscular thighs, and then…

His erection springs forth past the tension of the fabric.Oh. My. God.

My hand glides over the hard muscle of his thigh before I gingerly wrap my fingers around his erection. It feels… different than I expected, hard and sturdy but with thin, soft skin. His breath catches in his throat as I move my fingers, and I pause to look up at him.

"Does it hurt?"

He smiles softly. "No, it feels amazing. Here," he says, wrapping his hand over my own. "You can squeeze a little harder, then move up and down." I let him guide me, showing me exactly how he likes to be touched, until he lets go and allows me to continue on my own.

He groans as I stroke him, his head falling back against the couch. "That's it. Just like that."

Emboldened by his response, I continue to stroke him, my confidence growing with each passing moment. I look up at him to gauge his reaction under his hooded gaze.

"Can I do more?" I whisper.