I can’t feel anything except this ache.
It’s all haunting. It’s all fucking me up.
I lean closer and kiss the tattoo.
One press of my mouth over ink.
Over the part of him that understood me.
Though he’ll never know it.
He sucks in a breath.
I keep my lips there,
breathing in his skin,
and slowly—so fucking slowly?—
my hands slip lower,
and lower,
sliding down his body.
His head drops, his temple to mine,
his breath shaky.
My hands dip lower,
into the valleys of his hipbones,
following the trail of soft hair dusted across his pelvis.
Andrew reaches for me fast,
fingers sliding under my jaw,
tilting my face back to his.
Then he kisses me,
needing something to hold on to,
and my mouth is the only thing that’ll keep him from falling apart.
And then…
When I sink lower under the waistband…
When I finally take him in my hand…
Fuck.
He’s—
Thick.
