His fingers fumbled slightly with the clasp, a nervous habit, but she didn’t rush him, just let her head fall back, a soft sigh escaping as the straps slid down her shoulders. The bra hit the floor, and he paused, his breath catching, but before he could reach for her, she stepped back, her arms crossing loosely over her chest—not to hide, but to tease.
“Nice work,” she said, her tone light, “but that’s just the first step.” He frowned, confused, and she smiled, taking his hand, pressing it to her waist, then guiding it lower, stopping just above the waistband of her jeans. “Now earn the rest,” she murmured, her lips brushing his ear.
This wasn’t a rejection. It was a challenge—a way to make him want it, not just take it. He’d thought unhooking the bra was the prize, but really, it was the starting line. She wanted to see hunger in his touch, not just eagerness—to feel that he was willing to work for it, to savor the steps instead of rushing to the end.
He kissed her, slow, his hands sliding around her back, pulling her closer, and when he murmured her name against her lips, she laughed, the sound warm and knowing. “Better,” she said, and let her hands fall to her sides. Some rewards aren’t given. They’re earned—and he was more than willing to put in the effort.