My heart races across my chest, beating throughout my body. “I like when you touch me.”
He drops my hand and cups my cheeks in both of his. "I want to disappear into you,” he says, his low voice rumbling deep down into me, slipping into hidden crevices.
I close my eyes against his words, his steadfast gaze, the emotions I feel pouring off him. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?"
"I've never been ready for anything as much as I’m ready for you.”
That's all it takes. Our lips meet, and even though our mouths no longer taste of blackberries, the incredible fire is there, the utter disbelief that this is new to us.
We are exploring tongues, roving limbs, hands that roam. Sawyer, still on one knee, pulls my shirt over my head, followed by his own. He pulls back to look at me, and I remove my bra. He grips my hips, dragging me forward on the chair. "Wrap your legs around me," he instructs, then brings us both to standing. His tongue slips over my neck and my hands wind into his hair as he walks us into my room.
He lays me on the bed, and it takes two of us to work these tight jeans over my hips. He smiles down at me, a grin incongruous to those stormy eyes.
"Finally," he says, tossing the jeans on the floor. He steps from his pajama bottoms at the same time I slide my underwear down my legs. He stands beside the bed and looks down at me. I can't decipher his expression except to say he looks astonished. His eyes rake up my body, then he leans down over me.
He trails his fingertips over my skin until every square inch of me is at attention.
"Sawyer," I beg, squirming.
Climbing onto the bed, he covers me like a blanket, and parts my lips with a slide of his tongue. We kiss for so long I become impatient, and when I buck my hips into him, I feel him smile against me. He sits back, settling between my open thighs, and smiles down at me.
“Where is your patience?” he asks, dragging himself along me.
My core clenches in anticipation. “Long gone.”
"Fucking hell," he says suddenly, pulling away.
"What's wrong," I ask, sitting up on my forearms and blinking at the sudden change. Is he remembering the woman who came before me?
"I don't have a condom."
Five glorious words. I sigh in relief.
"I do.” Pointing, I say, “Nightstand.” He reaches in and finds it easily. I haven't lived here long enough to create a disorganized bedside drawer.
Once it's in place, he grabs my hips and hauls me to the edge of the bed. He leans over me, and without hesitation, thrusts inside. I gasp against his cheek at the delicious feeling of fullness, and he turns his face, pressing his lips against mine. I don't know how he manages to be both gentle and merciless within the same action, but he does.
He fucks me without reservation, and I match him. We are sweaty, and fierce, his mouth searching my chest, needy for me. I've never felt so cherished. So wanted.
He rolls us over, and now I'm on top of him. It's a position I've never been in, and I tense. Sawyer takes over, cupping my backside, lifting me. He does the work at first until I find a rhythm and take over. The heat builds, and even as my body lifts and lowers, inside me there is only rising. Higher and higher, until my legs quake against him and my fingers grab at his chest. My head tips back, and it's the first time I've felt something so intense and exquisite.
I scream his name, and I don't think I meant to, but it spurs him on, and just as I'm coming down from my high, he pulls me flush with him. He kisses me with so much emotion, holding me tight as he tenses and jerks, then stills.
I’ve gone limp, a deadweight on his expansive chest. His hand runs over my back.
"I've…" I try to say. "It's never…" I sigh quietly. "Those feelings. I've never felt anything like that."
Sawyer doesn't say anything, and after a few seconds, I tip to the side and roll onto the bed. He pulls off the condom, ties a knot in the end, and tosses it on the ground.
"Come here," he says, arms out. I back into him, and he folds over me. His lips brush my hair. "I said you scare me, but it's more than that. Youterrifyme."
“Enough to make you want to stop?”
Sawyer drags in a breath, and although I know he’s getting oxygen, I get the feeling he’s breathing inme.
“Enough to make me never want to stop.”
I don't know how to respond, and I don't know if a response is even needed. The events of the night settle into me, and suddenly I'm exhausted.
