The last thing I thought before he pulled me back into the heat was that the book on the desk was wrong. The friction of his skin wasn't like lace. It was like fire. And I was more than ready to burn.
The metal buckle of his belt hit the floor with a heavy, final thud that seemed to vibrate through the soles of my feet. The storm outside was a chaotic symphony, but in here, the only sound was the jagged rasp of our breathing.
He didn't waste another second. Mark’s hands...calloused, warm, and terrifyingly steady, slid under my thighs and hiked them up, pulling me to the very edge of the desk. The wood was cold against my bare skin, a sharp contrast to the furnace of his body as he stepped between my knees.
"You've been reading about this for years, haven't you?" he murmured, his voice v
