Sarah

Sydney’s hand slides down my side, gripping my ass, tugging me closer to him. My leggings feel impossibly tight and unnecessary right now. I’m desperate to get out of them, and I wiggle my hips for emphasis, which causes Sydney to groan my name and hiss out a breath.

“Get them off,” I beg.

He lifts his head, his eyes gleaming with heat and mischief in the soft lamplight coming from my bedside table. His eyes give me pause, a single second to rethink what we’re doing. Eyes like a storm brewing over the ocean when the normally crystal blue water turns dark and turbulent.

Eyes that have seen...