His lips gently collided against mine like a wave over the sand.
All I could see was him. There were no insecurities, there was no what-ifs; there was simply us.
I moved closer to him, not wanting to be far from his heat, my other hand joining the one already on his body. I’d been wrong when I’d said he had a body like a beach volleyball player. It was more like a sculpture—one of those Greek gods in a museum. He was the perfect male.
His kiss was slow and deep. I liked it, but that yearning for more only increased with every stroke of his tongue against mine.
“I need more.”
Whatever the next step was, I would take it. I was aching all over from wanting to be closer and not giving in. I didn’t know if I could handle whatever he was holding back, but I wanted to see for myself.
“I’ll tell you if I can’t handle it, but please, Arthur—don’t hold back from me,” I begged.
Deep down I knew I was still in control. One word from me, and he would stop. That was probably what made me feel comfortable with what was to come.
Arthur unleashed was not something I could have ever imagined.
His kiss was deeper, his hands moving from my face into my hair. Gripping it slightly then tilting my head to the side, his lips caressed my cheek, his tongue tasting the flesh of my neck. My senses were going wild, and I moaned at the feeling. This body didn’t even feel like my own anymore; Arthur was driving it.
I didn’t know which sensation to pay attention to more: His hands in my hair? His mouth on my neck and my collarbone? His breath spreading goose bumps over me? The smell of him was like the sea and citrus. My eyes closed, and all I could do was release my hands from his body and grip his head, holding onto him for my life. There was so much, and I was lost in a whirlpool of awareness. I sensed everything from him, but I wasn’t overwhelmed.
“I’m lost in you,” I moaned, and his movements felt stronger, like he wanted to savor this moment but yet take everything in a second.
“Has anyone ever touched your sweet heat, Gwendolyn?” His head pulled back enough to kiss me before making eye contact.
“Just Bradly, and he said I was too rigid.”
I felt anything but rigid right now.
“He’s getting a snowball or a punch to the face next time I see him. May I?” He shook his head, his hand coursing down my tummy to my skinny jeans. I nodded, needing him to make me feel better. He would cure my ache. I trusted him. Together we maneuvered my jeans down so he could touch me freely.
The first caress of his thumb against my clit made me wanna thrash and scream; it was like being hit with electricity. But then he was on the move, laying me down on my back, his body curled beside me, his fingers playing with me masterfully.
The weight of him against me and his kiss on my lips settled my mind, relaxing me to the point of bliss.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” he murmured against my mouth. Oh yes. I felt sexy right now. My whole body began to tense, and I knew I was close to coming.
“Look at me when you come, sweet muse,” he pleaded, and my eyelids flew wide open to gaze at his.
Bradly was wrong—I wasn’t cold. I just needed someone whose heart spoke my language. Someone like Arthur.
Euphoria overtook my body, and I cried out from the force behind it.
“I’m lost in you too.” His eyes were beaming at me, and for once I could understand that facial expression and the emotions behind it.
Arthur loved me.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Arthur
Gwendolyn was my everything. I’d never forget the way she felt beneath my fingers, the way she tasted against my tongue, writhing against me as she came.
But more than any of that, I would never forget her trust in me, her belief that I would handle her with care and give her something she’d never experienced before.
I’d barely removed my fingers from her when she was turning to me, her hand moving to my jeans.
I tried to tell her it was unnecessary to reciprocate, but she was eager and told me as much.
