Firm fingers grip my hips as I continue my journey down his shirt. “Speaking of learning…I wanna be respectful, here. Of who you are. But I’m worried I’m gonna do something you don’t like. Don’t wanna upset you by doing something I shouldn’t.”
I press a kiss to his chest, his skin soft and warm beneath my lips. “I appreciate you thinking about that. But this evolution of me, I’m constantly learning what that means myself. Maybe we can keep figuring it out together.”
“We can do that, but is there anything totally out of bounds?”
“The only thing I can think of is avoid hyper-feminine words for the parts of my biology. Like pussy or vagina. Stay non-gendered. Like my opening or center. I don’t mind clit. And chest. Tits at a push, but I reserve the right to get offended by that occasionally.”
He slides his hand around my neck, this thumb rubbing along my jaw. “Think I’ll be too busy enjoying you to be naming bits anyway.”
His lips meet mine, a kiss that grows more demanding.
“I really like that you care.” My words are muttered against his mouth.
He steps back a second. “Uncaring men broke two of the people I love most in this world, Wren. My father wasn’t willingto put in the work to deal with Mom’s injuries. My ex-brother-in-law was a scumbag who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants, even though he had a beautiful family at home. He threatened her physically, right in front of those precious kids. I vowed I was never going to be that guy who ruined the person I loved. But I thought it was because I’d stay single or maybe settle down much later in life. So, yeah. I care. I don’t want to break you.”
There’s real power to his words, the kind that shows me who he really is and what matters to him. This time, I reach for him, tug him to my mouth, and kiss him in a way I hope shows just how much I understand.
I’ve never been the one who was looked after either.
And God, do I want this man to be the one who is different. The one who’ll take all the broken pieces of me and not only carefully help me put them back together but will accept me as I am when I’m done.
The mood shifts.
The stairs felt playful.
The hallway, honest.
The bedroom, soul destroying.
I heard his words but read between the lines. I heard the guilt he carries for not being able to protect his mom and sister. I heard the promise that he knows better and won’t hurt me unless it’s inevitable.
Slowly, we remove each other’s clothes.
“How do I take this off?” he asks, touching my binder.
“It’s a bit of a tussle, and you need to be careful of all my earrings.”
I let him wrestle my binder over my head. It’s awkward, but we laugh when it gets tangled in my hair and we have to pause while he carefully disentangles the strands, because it doesn’t matter. It’s a part of who I am, and River has no problem with it.
I’m rewarded when he brushes his thumbs over my sensitive chest.
Our lips collide, even when we’re breathless. And when we’re naked, he leads us to the side of the bed, and we fall onto the soft mattress and bedding.
Nothing is rushed or frantic. We have all the time in the world as the silence of night surrounds us.
The intensity builds slowly. We’ve touched each other before. Kissed each other like we meant it. We’ve fucked with hands and mouths and teeth. But this feels different.
Special.
A beginning.
The ranch house is quiet, the wind howling outside. In this room, the two of us silently reaffirm our promise to take care of each other. To find who we are in each other.
His hands map my body, firm and reverent, familiarizing themselves with the curves I keep hidden. The mounds of my chest, the slope of my hips, the dip between my thighs.
As he does, I shiver.
And I do the same. I kiss the tattoos that cover his chest. I lick his nipples, tasting the shower-fresh tang of him.
