Sophia couldn't form words. Could barely breathe. She felt wrung out and hypersensitive and somehow still wanting more.

Marcus stood, and she watched through half-lidded eyes as he stripped off his shirt. God, he was gorgeous—lean muscle, a smattering of dark hair on his chest, that trail of hair that disappeared into his jeans.

She sat up on shaky arms, reaching for his belt. "My turn."

"You don't have to—"

"I want to." She got his belt unbuckled, popped the button of his jeans. "I've imagined this too. Three years of wondering what you'd taste like."

His breath caught as she unzipped him. He was hard and thick, straining against...