“And we’re both awake.”
“Very awake.”
“I have a question.” He lowered his head, brushed his lips against the corner of my mouth. “What was in that notebook you didn’t want me to see?”
Heat flooded my face. “Nothing.”
“Liar.” He kissed my jaw. “You turned the color of a tomato when I picked it up.”
“It’s just lists. I told you.”
“Lists about what?” His mouth moved to my neck, and I tilted my head to give him better access. “Things you need from the store? Books you want to read?”
“Something like that.”
“Hmm.” He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. “I think you’re lying. I think it was something much more interesting than groceries.”
“And what if it were?”
“Then I’d want to know what was on it.” His hand slid under my shirt, palm flat against my stomach, and I shivered. “Every. Single. Item.”
“Maybe I’ll show you someday.”
“Maybe you could show me now.”
I pulled him down and kissed him instead of answering.
This time, there was no hesitation. We’d been building up to this moment for days, and now the dam had finally broken. Samuel kissed me like he was drowning and I was air. His hands were everywhere, pushing my shirt up and over my head, sliding down my sides, gripping my hips with a possessiveness that made me gasp.
“Off,” I managed, tugging at his pajama pants. “These need to be off.”
“Yours first.”
We stripped each other with more enthusiasm than grace, kicking off fabric until there was nothing between us but skin and heat and want. When Samuel pressed the full length of hisbody against mine, I made a sound I’d never made before—something raw and needy that should have been embarrassing but wasn’t.
“God,” he breathed against my mouth. “Farley. You feel—”
“I know.” I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, feeling him hard and hot against me. Samuel rocked against me, slow and deliberate, and pleasure sparked up my spine. His mouth found my collarbone, my chest, that spot on my ribs that made me writhe. He learned me—every gasp, every shiver, every place that made my hips jerk—and he used that knowledge ruthlessly.
“I want—” I started, then stopped, suddenly uncertain.
Samuel’s hands stilled on my ribs, his breath warm against my skin. “Tell me.” His voice was rough, but his touch was gentle, tracing circles on my hip like he was coaxing the words out of me. “Whatever it is, I want it too.”
I swallowed. The truth was, I didn’t know how to ask for what I wanted—not really. Ollie had always made me feel like my desires were inconvenient, like I was too much or not enough. But Samuel was looking at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.
“I want you to touch me,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “Everywhere. Like you can’t get enough.”
Samuel’s eyes darkened. “Oh, Farley.” He kissed me again, slow and deep, his tongue sliding against mine like he were savoring me. “I want nothing more than to touch you.” His hand drifted lower, fingers teasing the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. “But first—”
He shifted down my body, his mouth leaving a trail of fire along my chest, my stomach, the sharp V of my hips. When he reached the waistband of my briefs, he hooked his fingers under the fabric and looked up at me, his gaze burning. “Can I?”
I nodded, my breath hitching. “Please.”
He pulled them off in one smooth motion, tossing them aside before settling between my legs. The first touch of his mouth was almost too much—warm, wet, perfect. I arched off the bed with a gasp, my fingers tangling in his hair. “Samuel—”
He hummed against me, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure through my spine. His hands gripped my thighs while he licked around my balls, like he had all the time in the world. Like he wanted to memorize the way I tasted, the way I sounded.
It was nothing like Ollie. Ollie had always rushed, like he was checking a box, and he couldn’t wait to be done. Samuel? Samuel was worshipping me.
