The honesty, the vulnerability, makes my chest constrict. I press my lips into a thin line and pace again, letting my boots squeak softly against the floor. The heater hums louder in thepause between my steps, the distant traffic murmuring. It’s mundane, normal—but she’s never had normal.
“Well, Dove,” I say, flashing her a grin. “I’ve got a feeling we’re gonna have a lot of fun. The world’s got plenty to show you—and I can’t wait to screw up my firsts all over again, this time through your eyes.”
I stop mid-step, taking a breath, letting my gaze linger on her. “All of it,” I murmur, “every little thing you like…we’ll make room for it. Every small joy you’ve been denied, we’ll make it yours.”
Her lips tremble into a ghost of a smile. I see her fingers twitch, like she wants to touch something, to feel that it’s real. I can’t reach for her. I won’t. Not yet. But I’ll be here, every second, letting her exist, letting her choose her own world. We’re going to Lego the fucking shit out of her world, brick by brick. One experience at a time.
When she finally steps closer, robe brushing her thighs, the soft shiver of cold under her skin evident in the tilt of her shoulders, I feel a pulse of something darker, something fierce.
She hesitates, robe slipping slightly at the shoulder, and tilts her head like she’s gathering courage. “What about you?” she asks softly, voice almost lost in the hum of the heater. “What doyoulike?”
I blink.
Me? She wants to know about me?
Now?
My chest tightens, but a grin creeps in anyway—slow, sly, can’t-help-it kind of grin. “Me?” I echo, pacing a little to keepfrom doing the obvious thing—like, say, pining her against the wall and sinning six ways to Sunday.
“I like…” I drag the word out, pretending to think. “Coffee strong enough to put hair on your chest. Music loud enough to make your neighbors hate you. Pizza with extra cheese. And if it’s not delivered fast enough, I yell. A lot.”
She quirks an eyebrow, a tiny smile tugging at her lips. “Is that…all?”
Oh, sweetheart, not even close.
I twirl the remote between my fingers, pacing a slow circle like a man solving quantum mechanics instead of how not to pop a boner mid-heart-to-heart.
Okay, be honest, Trey. But not too honest.
Don’t mention how you love edging a woman until her thighs tremble, and her eyes roll back.
Don’t mention how the sound of a woman’s breath catching, right before you make her cum is better than any chorus you’ve ever written.
Yeah, maybe keep that one in the vault, champ.
Still, my brain whispers,go on,give her a peek behind the curtain.
Making a woman go cross-eyed while I eat her pussy.
Fingers deep, tongue deeper.
Her nails scratching down my back.
Her voice breaking on my name.
Titty fucking’s hot.
A good blow job is basically an art form.
Pegging? Not my jam. Not since the ladle incident.
Long story. Don’t ask.
Out loud I clear my throat.“Oh, you know…I like dogs. Big ones. Scary-looking but soft hearted. And I like…revenge flicks.” I risk a glance at her. She’s smiling now—barely—but it’s there, like a sunrise creeping up on me.
“Candy is hit or miss,” I add, shrugging. “But, English chocolate? Swiss chocolate? Ruined me. Can’t eat a Reese’s or Hershey’s now without feeling personally offended.”
She laughs—a soft surprised sound—and I swear my chest cracks open a little.
