No, I was not.
I stood up from the couch, and Holly’s eyes tracked my movement.
When I crossed to where she was sitting, I sank down onto the blankets beside her, the firelight casting shadows across her face. “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”
“Please.”
I cupped her face in my hands—her skin was warm, no trace of that frightening cold from earlier—and kissed her.
Her lips were soft and responsive, parting immediately when I deepened the kiss. When my tongue swept against hers, she made a small sound in the back of her throat that went straight to my cock.
She reached up and fisted her hands in my shirt, pulling me closer. The angle was awkward, so I pressed her backward, lowering us to the blankets. Her legs parted, welcoming me between them, and I settled against her.
“Mmm, much better,” she breathed against my mouth, and then she was kissing me again, her mouth pressing harder this time, her lips more demanding. Her hips rolled up against mine, seeking friction, and the pressure of her against my cock made me groan.
Her hands slid under my shirt, nails scraping lightly against my stomach, and I groaned into her mouth. I’d spent sixteen years wondering if I’d ever experience this again—this wanting and being wanted in return—and now that it was happening, my brain couldn’t quite catch up to reality.
“Holly.” I broke the kiss, breathing hard. “I need—can we slow down for a second?”
She pulled back immediately, concern flashing across her face. “Are you okay?”
“I’m perfect. I just—” I pulled in a breath, trying to organize my thoughts. How did I explain that I wanted this to last all night? That I wanted to take her apart and put her back together again? That I needed this to last for hours, not just minutes? I finally settled on, “I want to do this right. I want to make this good for you.”
“It’s already good.”
“Well then, I want it to be better than good.” I traced my thumb along her jaw, watching her eyes darken. “I want you to feel so much pleasure you can’t think straight. I want to learn exactly what makes you fall apart. I want?—”
“Okay, you need to stop talking like that,” she interrupted, her voice strained. “Because I’m approximately three seconds away from pushing you down, and just climbing on top of you and taking what I want.”
The image that conjured made my cock throb. Little did she know I’d imagined exactly that a few days ago.
“You can have anything you want,” I said, reaching for her.
Holly’s smile was pure satisfaction. “Oh, I fully intend to.”
I pulled her sweater over her head in one smooth motion, then the thermal underneath. She lifted her arms to help, and when the fabric cleared her face, she was grinning—flushed and eager and so fucking beautiful it hurt to look at her.
The simple white bra was next. My hands shook slightly as I reached for the clasp, and when it fell away, I forgot how to breathe.
“You’re staring,” she said softly, but she didn’t sound self-conscious. If anything, she sounded pleased.
“You’re beautiful.”
“You said that already. At Rosa’s.”
“And I’ll probably say it a lot more before we’re done here.”
I cupped her breast, and the weight of it in my palm, the way her nipple hardened against my thumb was better than anything I’d imagined.
And I’d imagined quite a bit.
“Luke,” Holly breathed out, arching into my touch. “I need your mouth on me.”
I lowered my head to her breast, and her sharp intake of breath when my lips closed around her nipple sent a thrill through me.
I’d read about this—about how sensitive breasts could be, about the nerve pathways that connected them to other parts of the body—but reading about it and experiencing her response were entirely different things.
I catalogued her responses: Holly liked having her nipples sucked, she preferred firm pressure over gentle, and she made the most incredible sounds when I used my teeth carefully.
