Bella could almost feel it already: the way they would press and rub against every sensitive spot, massaging her from the inside, skewering her in slow, deliberate strokes.
The thought was filthy, overwhelming, and utterly irresistible.
A sudden rush of wetness flooded between her thighs, warm and unmistakable.
Her pussy clenched involuntarily, aching with need, slickness coating her folds as her body betrayed just how desperately it wanted exactly what her mind was picturing.
A soft, needy whimper slipped from her throat before she could catch it.
Ross heard it—of course he did—and the corner of his mouth curved in a knowing, excited smile, but he didn't speak.
He simply watched her, letting the tension build.
Time stretched thin. Bella leaned forward slowly, drawn in like a moth to flame.
The closer she got, the stronger his scent became—clean skin, warm musk, pure masculine arousal.
