I re-focused and saw that the T-shirt was now off. Tudor’s bronzed, bulging chest and sculpted stomach were almost fully covered in dark tattoos that wrapped around the full length of his left arm, climbing up onto his huge corded traps and his thick, muscular neck.

Jesus, he was perfect.

I shook my head once to gather my composure, biting my lip and clenching the bed sheets in my fists. He pulled a knowing Tudor-smirk, and I whimpered loudly, needing him to hurry.

He reached for his belt and began undoing the buckle slowly, eventually letting the leather strap fall to the floor with a thud. His fingers dusted over the top button of his jeans, snapping it open and dragging down the zip, causing the waistline to drop low on his hips, showcasing the defined V-line of his lower torso and exposing the thin patch of hair leading south of the waistband of his jeans.

"Tash, you need stop looking at me that way or I'm gonna lose it. I'm barely holding it together as it is," he announced through gritted teeth.

I pinched myself on the arm to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. As I was twisting the skin on my upper arm, I peeked up to see Tudor frozen in place with a confused look on his face. I rubbed at the red mark, trying to soothe the sting.

“Ms. Munro, are you into the kinky stuff?”

“What? No! I was just making sure all of this was real.”

He smiled tenderly. “And what’s the verdict?”

“Yep, we’re definitely here. Now, carry on, man-slave, and strip!”

He raised his hands high to rub over his face and head, causing his biceps to flex with the movement. “Are you ever serious? I’m pulling out all my best moves here.”

I nodded enthusiastically. “I’m as serious as a heart attack, now lose the damn pants, and seize and ravish this fair and innocent maiden!”

"Tash…" he warned, stilling my breath and smart-ass remarks as he lowered his hands to the waistband of his jeans.

I gasped loudly and practically swallowed my tongue. No underwear - hello, Mr. Commando!

I couldn’t look away, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of being completely inexperienced and way out of my depth at what I was facing.

At all I was facing.

He raised an eyebrow and huffed in amusement. “What, no sassy retorts now, Ms. Munro?” as his extra-long battering ram practically hit the floor to complement his jibe.

I swallowed audibly and shook my head.

Holy mother of sphincters! I need a vodka. That or a bucket load of Vaseline! Yikes!

Tudor lifted his deliciously large legs one at a time, losing his jeans completely, and looking all perfect, excited and very naked. His inkings continued to his lower hip, his freakishly bulky thighs, the defined calf on his left-hand side, and were mirrored on his back – my God, his entire left side, front and back, was covered in the most knicker-tingling tattoo I had ever seen.

Ding! Put a fork in me, I’m done. Is it possible to orgasm without any touching?!

"Now you," he commanded, tipping his chin, no longer playing games.

In a moment of sheer panic, I lost all confidence. What the hell did someone who looked like him and who was as… equipped as him, want with me – a dumpy little Geordie? He was the definition of hot male ruggedness and I was anything but – all lumps, bumps and imperfections.

He read my expression. "What's wrong?" he questioned, worry etched on his brow.

I lifted my hands to my face to cover and hide, and pulled my knees up to my stomach, making myself small. I rubbed my eyes, trying to not be freaked out by this highly daunting situation.

I was in the process of having sex with a movie star! That doesn’t happen to girls like me, surely? I was so out of my depth – throw me a frickin’ life ring!

The bed dipped and large hands began creeping up the mattress on either side of my tension-ridden body. I could feel him above me, his body hovering just above mine, completely in control.

"Let me in," he demanded.

He reached down to my clamped-shut knees and pulled them apart, gently lowering himself down, his very naked body flush against my clothed one, and he forced my cupped hands gently aside exposing my terrified expression.

"Baby, no..." he murmured, leaning in, kissing the end of my nose and then drifting down to my mouth, brushing back my hair with his hand.

He lowered his eyes and whispered, “You are beautiful. Believe me, Sunshine. You're absolutely f**king incredible! I want you more than anything."

I let out a huge sigh and stared back, wanting to believe him, needing to, trying to break down years of insecurities in a matter of minutes.

He kissed the flushed apples of my cheeks and murmured. “I’ve never wanted anyone, no, anything more than you in my entire life. You have to believe me.”

I smiled and blushed, hearing the sincerity in his words. I took his face in my grasp and delved into a searing kiss, causing him to chuckle against my lips.

“There she is, my kinky little minx.”

I giggled back and realised at that moment that I could do this forever. How could I kiss anyone else ever again? How could I be with anyone ever again? You don't try filet mignon and then live the rest of your life eating Spam. My movie-star moment was going to ruin me for all others.

Tudor pulled back and clutched my hands in his. He brought each one to his lips and sat back, forcing me up on my knees. He took my hands and laid them on his broad chest, encouraging me to explore.

I broke our mutual gaze and watched carefully as my hands traced the pattern of his intricate black tattoo over his pecs and down his arms. I smiled as his skin jumped and bumped with the tickle of my fingertips as they smoothed over his tense tendons and veins.