3We stood dangerously close, breaths mingling, chests rising and falling in sync. I could see the rapid heave of his broad chest, the way his tattoos shifted with every inhale.“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” Trevor confessed, his voice lower and more vulnerable than it had been in the elevator. Raw. Honest.“Me too,” I admitted, the words slipping out before I could stop them.His hand settled on my waist—slow, tentative, like he was afraid I might vanish. Not rough. Not rushed. Just inevitable.“You feel exactly how I pictured,” he murmured, thumb stroking over my hip.My fingers fisted in his shirt. “How did you picture me?”“Irresistible.” His lips hovered barely an inch from mine, silently asking. I answered by closing the gap, pressing a soft, testing kiss to his mouth.That was all it took.Trevor’s grip tightened and he took control, tongue sliding deep, claiming my mouth in a hungry, filthy kiss. It was pure collision—days of frustration exploding at once. His hands
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