The cool air hits his wet fingertips and it's still an overwhelming concept when he realizes what she'd allowed him to do. Then when she stands before him, a living, picture-perfect image of his fantasy, he vaguely wonders what he'd done to deserve this. And he also wonders what else he can do to make her moan and cry out as she had done before...

He hooks his damp fingertips on the garter of her panties, his hand brushing against her warm thigh as he pulls them lower, down to her knees. Bending forward, bringing his face so close to her bare hip that his short, heavy breaths through parted lips singe her skin, he pushes the lacy garment past her knees where they fall to the floor around her ankles. Not moving his head, he dares to raise his eyes -- the look in them is all at once submissive and worshipful, yet intensely eager -- and his gaze sweeps up the smooth, pristine plane of her stomach and between the voluptuous curves of her breasts, to find and meet her own eyes.