I’ve never felt anything like this.
His lips trail along my jaw, unhurried, his breath warm against my skin. “You okay?” he murmurs, his voice rougher, needier now.
I nod, because words feel impossible. Because if I open my mouth, I might say something reckless. Something like I’ve dreamed about this, I’ve wanted him forever, or worse, that I’ve been madly in love with him for most of my life.
He smiles against my skin, like he understands.
When he kisses me again, it’s deeper—his tongue sliding against mine, teasing, tasting. My toes and fingertips tingle. My whole body feels tuned to him, like he’s found the right frequency and everything else fades to static.
My insecurities hang onto the fringes of my self-consciousness. The softness of my stomach. The way I’m not built like the women he could have. But Grey doesn't hesitate. He doesn’t skim or avoid any part of me.
That quiet voice inside me—the one that’s spent years whispering that I’m not enough—finally stills.
Grey pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against mine, his breathing uneven. His thumbs brush slow circles at my sides, grounding us both.
“You feel…” He stops, choosing his words carefully. “Perfect.”
Something in my chest aches. It feels good and dangerous.
I swallow. “So do you.”
He laughs softly, the sound low and intimate, and leans in to press a kiss to my temple, my cheek, the corner of my mouth.
His hand slips into mine again, fingers lacing with mine. He squeezes gently. “C’mon.”
I follow him, heart pounding, my body thrumming, knowing exactly where we’re headed and feeling more alive than I have in ages.
10
Kari
Grey leads me down the short hallway, never loosening his grip on my hand. My heart beats so fast it makes my ears ring. Every step feels heavier with the weight of knowing this is happening. Yet, my heart is light.
We stop just inside the doorway. For a second, neither of us moves.
When Grey exhales it’s slow and shaky, almost nervous. He turns to face me. His hands come to my hips, tentative again, still giving me space to change my mind. But I don’t want space.
I want him.
I slide my palms up his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing under my hands. When he kisses me this time, it’s different. Hungrier. Less careful. His lips part, his tongue sliding against mine, and my knees actually wobble. I laugh softly into his mouth, breathless, and he smiles against my lips.
“Sorry,” I whisper out of habit, even though I don’t know what I’m apologizing for.
He shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry about anything.”
My pulse skitters wildly, and a happy, wild thread loosens in my chest. I feel wanted.Pretty.
We move into the dimly lit bedroom. I register the furnishings vaguely, because all I can really focus on is Grey, his kisses—to keep breathing.
His hands skim up my sides, then along my back. I become hyperaware of my body—of how responsive I am with him. How much I want more. This is usually the moment my insecurities scream the loudest. When I’d brace for hesitation. For disappointment. But that feeling doesn’t come.
I help him tug my shirt up and over my head, my cheeks flaming even though we’re both adults and sex is normal. He peels off his shirt. I shrug out of my leggings and shoes, briefly losing my balance. There’s a clumsy pause where we bump into each other and laugh quietly. The sound breaks the tension enough to take the edge off of the seriousness of what we’re doing.
When we’re both fully exposed, he draws back the blanket and lays me on the sheet. I scoot to the middle and he crawls over me. It’s thrilling, surreal, and so painfully sweet.
His mouth follows the path of his hands, dotting my body with kisses—along my neck, to the top of each breast, nipping at my nipples. My thoughts scatter completely. My body takes over, instinctive and alive. I cling to him, fingers digging into his shoulders, grounding myself in the feel of him.
He sinks lower, down my body, sampling every inch of me from my navel to lower. Though I’ve never let any man venture between my legs with their tongue, I couldn’t stop Grey if I tried. He parts my knees and draws them up the mattress.
