A tear rolls hotly down my cheek. He catches it with his thumb.
“Tell me you’re sure,” he whispers. “Tell me you want this because you want me, not because you’re afraid of tomorrow.”
I exhale a shaky breath. “I want you.”
He reaches out, wrapping an arm around me, his eyes hooded and locked on mine.
Not hungry. Not rushed. Not like the alley behind the roadhouse, where we were both drowning in adrenaline and fear and need.
His lips press against mine. The kiss is slow and deep, a devastating feeling of finally being on the same page. A vow sealed mouth to mouth. I pull at his shirt, and he takes it off in one fluid motion, his pants, until he’s only in his boxer briefs.
He lifts me gently into his arms, like I might break, and carries me the few steps to his bed.
He lays me down carefully, bracing himself over me.
“Last chance, KitKat,” Scottie murmurs against my lips, and I can feel the anticipation in his voice, the restraint coiled tight in every muscle of his body, even though I know he wants this.
“If I start,” he continues, his thumb tracing my jawline with devastating gentleness, “I’m not half-loving you. It’s all or nothing.”
My heart hammers against my ribs. There’s nervousness fluttering in my stomach, yes, but underneath it is something stronger—certainty. I don’t want to be scared of loving him anymore. Scared that this might not last because we won’t be able to convince my grandmother and father. I just want to be with him.
“Then give me all of it,” I whisper, reaching up to cup his face. “I want all of you.”
His breath shudders out, eyes closing briefly like I’ve just given him something precious.
“Okay,” he says, and when his eyes open again, they’re dark with promise. “But we’re taking this slow. I need you ready forme, need you so ready that it’s all you can think about. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Heat floods through me at his words.
He lowers his mouth to mine, kissing me deep and slow, his tongue sliding against mine in a rhythm that makes me ache. His hand slides down my side, over my ribs, coming to rest on my hip as his thumb traces small circles on my skin.
When he finally breaks the kiss, we’re both breathing hard.
“I’m going to touch you everywhere,” he murmurs against my jaw, trailing kisses down to my neck. “Taste you everywhere. Make you come on my tongue again before I’m even inside you. Understood?”
“Scottie...” His name comes out breathy, wanting.
“That’s not an answer, Katerina.”
“Yes,” I manage. “Yes, I understand.”
“Good girl.”
The praise makes me clench, and he knows it—I can see it in the slight curve of his lips before he lowers his mouth to my collarbone.
He takes his time, kissing and licking a path down my body while his hands map every inch of skin. When he reaches my bra, he pauses, fingers tracing the edge of the lace.
"Can I take this off?”
“Please,” I whisper.
He reaches behind me, unhooking it with practiced ease, and slowly draws the straps down my arms. The cool air hits my bare breasts, my nipples hardening with excitement.
“God, look at you.”
He cups one breast in his hand, thumb brushing over the nipple. I gasp, arching into his touch, and then his tongue is there, his mouth wrapping around my nipple, warming me while his hand works the other, rolling and tugging until I’msquirming beneath him.
“Scottie, please—” “
