Aria's POV
"Then let me see you," he said, soft and filthy all at once. "Pull the shirt up. Slowly."
For a second I just lay there, frozen with it—the nerves, the heat, the absurd intimacy of his eyes on me from another country.
Then I hooked my fingers under the hem of my shirt and dragged the fabric up, inch by inch, baring my stomach, the soft skin of my hips, the plain cotton sleep shorts.
I stopped just under my breasts, clutching the fabric there, too shy to go further and too far gone to put it back down.
The sound he made should have been illegal.
"f**k, Aria." He dragged a hand down his face, hard. "You have no idea. Do it again—touch your stomach for me. Light. Like I would."
I did. My palm glided over my own skin, still warm from earlier, and I saw him tra
