He hits the bed with a breathless grunt. And she teases him, repeatedly, hovering over him, his mouth desperate to make contact with hers, allowing his hands to skim up her sides before she pulls away.

But she reels him in with her eyes. Keeps his gaze, his focus, his everything on her where she wants it. When she lays herself out like that, his breath leaves him again, and he swallows as his throat goes dry.

He's never seen her like this before. As he slowly sits up at her feet, he wonders vaguely if she's been holding back or if it's something new. Either way, he can't take his eyes off her -- from her hair spilled out over the pillow, to her full breasts as they rise and fall with each breath she takes, to her legs, those legs that drive him crazy when they wrap around him.

His attention becomes fixed on her hand resting low on her stomach, the satin ribbon between her fingers. He's torn between watching and helping.