The Boy Who Has No Hope (Soulless 6)

My heart was beating so hard.

But this felt right.

When I turned around, I saw him walking toward me, most of the lights off so we were in darkness, the Manhattan lights bright through the windows. I stared at his face and immediately had a flashback to the moment I first saw him down in the lobby. I’d thought he was the sexiest man I’d ever seen, but now that opinion was stronger than before…because I knew his heart matched.

He came up to me, his mouth close to mine, but he didn’t kiss me. He looked into my eyes as his hands rested on my hips, gripping my slender stomach. He squeezed me so the air was compressed from my lungs. He stared at my lips, watched me breathe, and then his fingers unbuckled the belt around my waist, making the fabric fall loose around me.

I was anxious for his kiss, but the eye contact was sexier, the way he stared at me like he wanted to enjoy every single second of undressing me, like he wanted to go slow as if there was no tomorrow, even though there would be a next day…and then the next. He was such a hard man with limited emotions, but he could be romantic when he touched me like this, when he bunched up the fabric of my dress in his fingers and slowly pulled it up my body, revealing my black thong, my bare skin, my black, lacy bra. His eyes were on me the entire way, as if my reaction to his touch was addictive. The dress crept higher and higher until I moved my arms above my head and he pulled it free. When the dress was gone, my hair dropped down again, messy from the friction of the thick fabric, but I somehow felt more beautiful.

He let the dress fall to the floor as his eyes lowered to look at me, his hand pressing against my flat stomach to feel my skin. He looked me over, drinking in my appearance without a hint of disappointment. There were faded stretch marks at the bottom of my stomach from Lizzie, but they were so small they were difficult to see, especially in the dark. His fingers moved across them like he noticed them, like he wanted to touch them, to know my body fully, the beautiful parts as well as the ugly ones. I wasn’t as tight and fit as the girls who usually occupied his bed, but that didn’t seem to be a problem for him. His eyes darkened as he stared at me, his breaths increasing, his skin flushing with desire. When he came closer, his hand moved up my back until his fingers tightened around the band of my bra so the hooks would come free. When the straps loosened on my shoulders, he stared at his fingers as he pulled them free, watching more of my skin emerge.

Then it fell, landing on top of my dress.

His eyes moved to my tits, and he tightened his jaw like the sight made him tense. One hand gripped my tit and gave it a manly squeeze, his thumb flicking over the nipple. His gaze became more focused, like a man seeing a naked woman for the first time. He lifted his eyes again and looked at me, but there was still no kiss. His hand slid down my leg until he gripped the back of my knee and raised it, making me balance on one foot in my tall boots.

My hand immediately clutched his bicep for balance.

With his eyes still on me, he held my knee in one hand while the other pulled down the zipper along the inside of my thigh to my ankle. When it was loose, he pulled it off. Then he did the other, watching me all the while.

I almost couldn’t stand it.

Once I was barefoot, I was much shorter than him, our eyes no longer level like they had been before. But he didn’t mind dropping his chin to look at me with the same intensity, both of his thumbs hooking into the fabric of my panties to push them down over my hips and ass so they could fall to the floor.

When I was naked, he stared me up and down, swallowing the lump in his throat like I had the sexiest figure he’d ever seen. When he lifted his gaze again, he grabbed my wrists and placed my palms on his stomach, silently telling me to undress him.

My fingers gripped his t-shirt and slowly pulled it up over his abs, revealing the strong grooves of muscles that formed hills and valleys. My fingers slid underneath the fabric so I could touch him as I removed his attire at the same time, to feel his heat and strength, to touch the hardest man I’d ever felt.