“That’s very romantic but also potentially medically inadvisable,” I point out.
He kisses me again. Softer this time. “Trust me. I know my limits.”
Trust. Right. The thing we’re rebuilding brick by brick.
“Okay,” I breathe. “But the second it gets bad, you tell me.”
“Deal.”
I pause. Then say: “I do want to.”
He looks at me uncertainly. “Mmm?”
The words tumble out before I can overthink them. “I do want to move back in. As your partner.”
Something in his expression softens. Cracks open.
“Good,” he says quietly. “Because Ben’s been asking for you every night. And I’ve been... I’ve missed the hell out of you, Jess. The house just doesn’t feel right without you in it.”
My chest goes tight. “I’ve missed you, too. Both of you. More than you know.”
We kiss again, then I break away long enough to unclasp my bracelet. I set it on the nightstand.
His eyes track the movement and darken further.
He moves then. Backs me toward the bed with purpose. Not aggressively, just confidently. Like he knows exactly what I want and is done pretending he doesn’t.
My back hits the mattress. He follows me down, careful of his shoulder.
“I need you to know something,” he says against my mouth. “I’m going to take my time with you. Going to make you feel everything. And when you’re ready to cum, you’re going to ask me for permission first.”
Oh.
Oh fuck.
That should not be as hot as it is.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I manage.
“Good girl.”
The praise sends heat straight through my pussy.
His lips trail fire down my neck. Slow, open-mouthed kisses that make me arch into him. Each one feels like a vow whispered against my skin. He takes his time peeling off my sweater, his fingers skimming my ribs as he lifts it over my head. When it’s gone, he pauses, his gaze raking over the lace of my bra like he’s committing every detail to memory.
“Perfect,” he breathes, tracing the swell of my breast with his thumb.
Then his hands drop to my jeans. He unbuttons them with agonizing slowness, knuckles brushing the sensitive skin below my navel. I gasp as he slides the denim down my hips, and I bend my knees to help him ease them past my ankles.
His eyes never leave mine, dark and hungry, as he tosses them aside.
Now I’m in nothing but my soaking wet underwear, trembling under his scrutiny.
Vulnerable and exposed.
His.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs again, but this time it’s with reverence.
