He pulls back just enough to look at me, hands still on my hips, still holding me like he’s not ready to let go.
“Because if we do this now, it’s not going to be slow. It’s not going to be careful. And you—” he swallows hard, “you deserve more than me screwing you on the bar like I’ve lost my damn mind.”
“You have lost your damn mind,” I whisper, managing a shaky laugh.
He presses a kiss to my cheek, to the corner of my mouth, then to the hollow of my throat. Slower. Softer. “Yeah. For you.”
Silence swells between us, thick and charged, as we both fight to breathe again.
And then he whispers, “When I have you, Phern, it’s not going to be rushed. It’s not going to be a mistake. It’s going to mean something.”
My chest aches.
Because deep down, I know he’s not stopping because he doesn’t want me. He’s stopping because he does.
“Is this because I’m a virgin?”
“Partly. I want to make it good for you.”
I reach between us, touching him. He groans.
“What are you going to do about this?”
“Take a cold fucking shower.”
“Or,” I drawl. “I can help. But, you’ll have to show me how.”
His eyes darken, sharp and molten all at once.
“Phern,” he warns, voice raw like he’s holding on by a thread.
I wrap my hand around him fully this time, feeling him twitch in my palm. “Show me, Will.”
He groans again and his head falls back for a beat before he looks at me through hooded eyes. “You keep this up, and you’re going to be the one gettin’ a shower.”
I stroke him once, slow. “Fine by me.”
In a flash, his hand closes around my wrist. Not to stop me, but to guide me. His grip is firm, his gaze locked on mine as he lowers both our hands to rest over him.
“Like this,” he murmurs, voice vibrating low in his chest. He moves our joined hands in a steady rhythm, his body shuddering against mine with each pass.
“Good girl,” he breathes when I take over, mimicking the motion, watching his jaw clench as he fights to stay in control. “Keep going. Just like that.”
I press a kiss to his collarbone, his neck, the hollow beneath his ear. “You feel so good in my hand, Will.”
He swears under his breath, hips jerking up into my fist, one hand braced behind me on the bar.
“I’m not gonna last,” he rasps.
“Then don’t,” I whisper, lips brushing his. “Let me be the reason you lose it.”
A broken sound tears from his throat. His whole body tenses—hard muscles, clenched jaw, everything coiled and shaking as he pulses in my hand, coming with a hoarse growl of my name that makes me ache all over again.
His head drops to my shoulder, chest heaving.
I keep my arms around him, holding him close, stroking his back as he tries to catch his breath.
After a long moment, he lifts his head, eyes wild but softer now.
