“I’m serious,” I said. “If this is some ‘Why the hell not?’ sort of thing, just…don’t.” I slid him off me and began pacing the rug by the bed.
Hendrix knee-walked to the edge of the mattress. “It is definitely not that. I’m surprised, and I don’t know which end is up, but this is not a whim,” he said, reaching out for me. “In fact, my realization is probably long overdue.”
I drifted into his touch and let him pull me down on top of him, not sure what the fuck to believe. He pressed his lips to mine,and, helpless, I returned the kiss, pushing him into the pillow as my tongue dueled with his.
Before the kiss ended, I was talking again. “I’m not like you. I’m genuinely more comfortable in a tie. I like to plan things out in advance. I like right angles and sharp corners and knowing where I’m going to sleep from one night to the next.”
An evil smirk kicked up Hen’s lips as he wiped away the moisture of the interrupted kiss. “You do know that a right angle and a sharp corner are the same thing, right?”
I shook my head. “A right angle is ninety degrees exactly. A sharp corner can be ninety degreesor less.”
“You are such a dork,” he said, laughing as he kissed me again.
I thought of Ren’s words. How he had called Mr. Paige a dork and meant it in the most beautiful way possible. “Yeah, well, you’re a punk.”
“Are you supposed to talk this much during a make-out session?” Hendrix asked.
“I’m still trying to figure out if this is a fever dream or not,” I murmured before delving into his mouth, rubbing my tongue against his, losing my mind at the insistent press of our bodies.
“This is no dream, Sawyer Finch. This is me falling for you,” he growled, his voice that perfect blend of rough and silken as he began to pull at my clothes.
It was the sincerity in his eyes that finally convinced me this wasn’t some typical Hendrix flight of fancy. I could barely breathe for the way his words struck my chest and spread warmth everywhere. I lived for every one of his smiles, but I was used to his dark aesthetic. Seeing him lit up from within,genuinely joyful despite all the things barreling down on him… I had no words to describe it. Only a sense of wonder.
We couldn’t get our clothes off with him hovering over me, so we broke for a few seconds, scrambling off the bed to strip. He whacked me in the stomach as he took off his T-shirt, knocking the wind out of me. I laughed as he kissed me and apologized, then pulled down my pants. No sense in delaying a good time due to a lack of oxygen.
He pushed me back onto the bed, straddling me again before reaching for the lube. Rather than handing it to me, he slicked his own fingers, pressing them into his body. I watched him prepare himself for me, loving the way his initial wince melted into pleasure when he found the parts of him that felt good.
I rested my hands on his hips as he pulled a cheek to the side and grasped my hard shaft, angling it toward himself.
“Slowly, baby. We’ve got plenty of time,” I said.
He turned to face me, his expression softening. “Say that again.”
“Baby?”
“No, the other thing.”
“We’ve got plenty of time.”
On those words he sank down, letting out a satisfied sigh. “Thank God for time,” he said, his eyes sparkling. “I didn’t know what I was missing, and now I have a lot of catching up to do.”
My brain glitched on the idea of what “catching up” could look like.
Sound like.
Taste like.
Feel like.
I groaned as he took me deeper and deeper into his body. Loving the slide, loving the clench. I let my eyes peruse his inked, serpentine body and the way his black nail polish set off the outline of his hands on my chest.
As much as I enjoyed watching him undulate on top of me, I suddenly understood neediness. Because I needed him. I needed his skin against mine, his breath against my mouth.
“Kiss me,” I begged.
His smile broadened right before he leaned forward. I whispered his name until he took my lips with his, and then I wrapped my arms around him, pressing his chest to mine as we deepened every aspect of our lovemaking.
The words were right there on my tongue, but I didn’t want to scare him off. Even if he knew how I felt, saying it aloud would be too much.
