I warned, shifting hands so that I could push his inside knee gently down, out of my way, “that this doesn’t change anything.” “I don’t see how it could,” he agreed thickly. “I’ve wanted you for so long any—yes. Oh, Mag…” I was sliding between his legs now, unzipping his fly, touching his arousal with my nose as I breathed in the scent of him. I wanted more than a taste of him. I wanted to devour him whole. But… I hesitated. Maybe I’m more into torture than I think. I pushed myself up with my hands, my stomach and legs on the bed between his knees. “First,” I decided, “you get naked.” I’ve never seen fine Italian men’s wear so mistreated. In moments, Lex was undressed—from Armani model to Playgirl centerfold. He’d been staying in shape, too—chest, shoulders, tapered hips. Hard thighs and harder abdomen and even harder… Mmm. And he was reaching. I drew him to me, so very gladly, but when he started to palm a spaghetti strap of my camisole off my shoulder, I shook my head.
