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first time I’ve seen you smile.” He traced her curving lips with his finger. His eyebrows danced. “The second time is going to be when you get up the courage to unbutton my shirt. I have an amazing, monster-free chest.”
    She’d been clenching her fingers in an effort not to take him up on his invitation, but he’d given her the perfect excuse to do exactly what he wanted her to do. Exactly what she wanted to do.
    “Oh, you do, do you?” she heard herself say. “Let’s just see about that.”
    She reached for his shirt, her fingers fumbling with the buttons. When she finished, he freed the tail of his shirt from his trousers and shrugged out of it. She stared. Bronzed skin and golden-brown chest hair stretched over some of the most impressive pectoral muscles she’d ever seen.
    “I look even better without my trousers,” he prompted.
    She was still too stunned by the glorious sight of his chest to take him up on the hint. He laughed, lifted her easily off his lap and made short work of the rest of his clothes.
    She watched him as he undressed, growing even more amazed. His body was the kind a sculptor would appreciate. Every muscle was defined, every sinew beautifully realized. It looked more like a work of art than a body. Michelangelo’s David wasn’t far off the mark. In fact, Marietta thought Jax had a better body than David.
    The only marks marring his perfection were a large purplish bruise beside his hip and three slashes — from a cat’s claws? — across the middle of his stomach. She started to ask how he’d gotten the injuries, but she forgot the question when he turned back to her fully aroused. She’d been right. He was big. Big and spectacular. His gaze followed hers, and she knew he could hear her breathing become ragged.
    “Did you know,” Marietta rasped, trying to camouflage her nervousness, “that respiration increases to four times its normal level during, uh, you know. . .”
    “Sex?” he supplied again.
    Now that he was naked, she expected him to be concerned with fulfilling his own needs. Instead, when he rejoined her on the bed, he caressed the arch of her foot and planted a soft kiss on her ankle.
    “What. . . what are you doing?”
    “What does it feel like I’m doing?” he asked, a chuckle in his voice. He kissed her calf, the underside of her knee, her thigh. “I’m kissing you all over.”
    “But. . . but. . . that wasn’t part. . . oooohh.” He’d reached the juncture of her thighs, and she felt the warm wetness of his tongue invade her. Nobody had ever done that before, and it felt wickedly good. “No. . . ooooohhh.”
    Calling on her willpower, she pulled his head up. His fingers immediately replaced his tongue, taking over where it had left off, and he kissed the soft skin of her stomach. By the time he kissed his way up to her mouth, she was trembling.
    “Touch me,” he commanded, and she was powerless to do anything but obey him. First she smoothed her hands over his glorious chest, reveling in the hard ridges and soft chest hair. Then she moved her attention to his flat, rippled stomach, being careful not to aggravate the scratch marks. Finally, she found the most impressive part of him and encircled him with her fingers.
    “Baby,” he breathed into her mouth, “oh, baby, that feels good.”
    Her vocal chords could only seem to produce moans and murmurs or she might have told him not to call her baby. Then again, maybe she wouldn’t have. As long as he kept doing what he was doing, whatever he called her was just fine.
    He shifted his body slightly and she moved with him. It was the most natural thing in the world when he slid into her. She expected a vaguely pleasant fullness but multiple sensations crackled in the place they were joined and radiated outward. This feeling was like nothing Marietta had ever experienced before. She wrapped her legs around his buttocks as he buried himself deeply inside of her and slowly withdrew.
    “I don’t think