"Locke..." I say, my voice trembling, a breathless mix of lingering tears, overwhelming relief, and sudden, intense shyness. “I can’t –”
"Tell me, baby," he demands, his voice dropping. “Although I bet I can guess.”
His hands slide down the sides of his old t-shirt, his palms brushing against my bare thighs as he gathers the thin cotton in his fists, slowly riding the fabric up and over my head, leaving me completely open beneath his gaze.
He looks down at me, taking in my bare hips, the line of my stomach, and the heavy, rapid rise and fall of my chest. He can feel the heat radiating off me in waves, can feel how damp and sensitive my skin is beneath his touch.
"You were calling my name," Locke says, his dark eyes locked on mine. "You were squirming in the sheets, sweating, begging fo
