“Roughly?”

“I—no,” I spluttered, “I wouldn’t ever—”

“I like thinking of you touching me roughly,” she interrupted, calming me with a smile. Another piece of fabric lay on the bed—a tank top, I believe—and she reached for it, examining the hem before she set it in the drawer, too. “Of your big gentle hands shaking, needing to touch me, and you’re so impatient.”

“I would be,” I admitted, and when she looked up at me, asking me with her eyes for more, I murmured, “I am.” I could barely catch my breath; at my sides, my hands were shaking. “I try to be careful, but it’s a wasted effort.”

She pushed the dresser closed with her hip, and took a step toward me. “You pull off my clothes before we can even make it to the bed,” she agreed, playing along as she lifted her hand, fingering the strap of her camisole, waiting for me to stop her.

I couldn’t in a million years.

Sliding her hands down over her breasts and lower, to the hem of the garment, she began to lift it up, over her head . . . and off.

My heart stopped and when it started again, it was ten times too large, ten times too fast.

Ruby dropped the silk to the floor without looking away from my face.

Her chest was bared to me, lush curves, small, pink nipples, and perfect, pale skin. I swallowed, fighting the savage tempo of my pulse. I wanted to touch her, kiss her. I wanted to lie on top of her, move inside of her.

She took one step backward, and then turned, walking away from me and over to the bed.

“Ruby.” I had no point to make. Her name was just an instinctive utterance. Nearly a plea.

“You touch my breasts like you know them.” She turned back to face me, running her hands over the swells, pushing them together, roughly pinching the blush peaks. “You suck them. Like you’re greedy.”

Christ. “I am greedy.”

“You love my breasts. You’re filthy with them, sometimes.”

I nearly choked. Never in my life had I played such a game. “I am?”

“You are. You rub yourself all over them.”

I felt my skin flush, my body pulsing beneath my trousers at the intended meaning. “Myself . . . ?”

“Your cock.”

My mouth watered, and I stared at her lips, imagining her kissing me there.

“But right now, you want me naked.” It was a question, innocently buried in confidence.

She hooked her thumbs in her shorts, daring me again to stop her.

I nearly had to shove my fist into my mouth to keep from groaning aloud. The drink made me bold: “I do.”

She slid her shorts down her hips, swaying seductively for me, easing the silk down her thighs. She wore no underwear beneath, and her naked form was smooth, soft. I’d never seen anything more beautiful in my life.

“You like looking at me,” she said, but this one wasn’t a question. No doubt my expression telegraphed my every thought to her.

Like how I wanted to climb over her, be as greedy and filthy with her body as she suggested.

Like how I wanted to do something as innocent as touch the slickness between her legs with my fingers.

Swallowing heavily, I told her, “You’re the only thing I want to look at, darling.”

Ruby lowered herself onto the bed, pushing her body to the middle of the mattress, and then lay back, letting her knees fall to the sides. “So . . . look.”

Without shame, I stared between her spread legs. Blood pounded in my ears and I leaned against the armoire for support. “Christ.”

She ran her fingers up her legs, from her knees to her thighs. And then, while I watched, she ran the fingers of one hand along the wet skin of her sex.

“You like to taste me, too,” she whispered.

I could only swallow and nod. Nothing in the world would pleasure me more.

“But you tease me.”

I looked up at her face upon hearing the pout in her voice, feeling my brows draw together. “I do?”

“Yes,” she whined sweetly. “It’s awful. You make me beg for your mouth on my clit.”

Her . . . clit? I wiped a palm down my face, dizzy. All of this—all of it—was spinning so quickly out of control. “What . . . that is to say, how do I do that?”

Offering a tiny one-shouldered shrug, she said, “You kiss my thighs, and my lips just here.” She circled her fingers between her legs. “You lick where I’m wet, too.” Sliding her index finger lower, it soon glistened with her arousal. “See where I get wet?”