Page 93 of Hold Me Tight

“This needs to come off.”

He pulls back enough for his gaze to search mine. “You think so?”

I nod. “Yes.”

I want this man naked so I can see all of him.

Every gorgeous inch.

More than that, I want to feel his skin against mine. The weight of him. His undeniable strength. The warmth that is so much more than mere body heat. What I’ve already seen is more than enough to make me ache.

But now?

I want all of him.

Everything he’s willing to give.

“All right.” He lifts the sweater over his head with a smirk. “If you’re so eager to see the goods, then that’s exactly what I’m going to give you. What my baby wants, my baby gets.”

My lips curve despite the fire in my veins.

His attention stays locked on me as he tosses the wadded-up material to the floor. A few seconds later, his T-shirt follows, revealing the broad expanse of his chest, the subtle flex of muscle, the ink that winds along his skin like a story etched in permanence.

My gaze drifts to the tattoo on his ribs, Willow’s name woven into the design. After meeting her today and watching the way she played with Nora and looked at her brother like he hung the moon in the sky, it hits harder than expected.

That kind of love and bond…

What kind of man tattoos his sister’s name on his body?

A good one.

A loyal one.

The kind who makes you feel safe without even trying.

There’s the clink of metal as he unfastens his belt.

My stomach flutters in anticipation.

Why is that so damn sexy?

He slides the leather from the loops, the motion unhurried, almost teasing. When he drops the belt to the floor, the sound feels heavier than it should.

Final.

There’s the quiet rasp of fabric as he pops the button on his jeans and lowers the zipper. My gaze drops, lips parting when I see how hard he is beneath his boxer briefs. His erection strains against the cotton, sparking a rush of heat under my skin.

The denim catches on his muscular thighs before he shoves it down and steps free. With nothing but confidence and quiet intensity, he peels off his socks and finally, the boxers. The last barrier between us falls away, leaving him completely bare.

Unapologetically exposed.

River Thompson is seriously gorgeous.

Hard and thick. Sculpted like a work of art. He’s power and grace in perfect harmony. And the way he stands still, letting me take him in, tells me this moment is as vulnerable for him as it is for me.

I don’t realize I’ve spoken the words out loud until he says, “No, baby. You are.”

His tone melts something deep inside me.