eyes locked on mine as he leans in.
“Trust me—your meanin’ ofbabyand mine?
“Ain’t the fuckin’ same.”
His mouth grazes my ear?—
“So you should know, when I say it?—
“I'm sayin'mine.
“Myfuckin’ baby.”
He hooks a finger under my chin.
“Now on your back.
“Let me show you what that feels like, yeah?”
Then he steps closer, the edge of the bed catching the back of my thighs.
I’m falling back, pulse in my ears, fingers shaking, room spinning.
He follows me down, mouth chasing, hovering, dragging over mine.
He catches himself in time,
palms pressing into the mattress, caging me in.
The bed’s cold on my back, but heburns?—
body, breath, lips,
all fevered, all fucking hunger.
I reach for his face as he comes over me,
lowering onto one elbow.
My fingers trace the map of his cheekbones,
the outline of his jaw,
the curve of his lips,
rake through his thick hair.
I drag him in,
and his mouth draws wet heat at the spot under my ear,
then lower.
His chest slides down my breasts.
His lips slide down the hollow of my neck.
A trail of heat in his wake. But still…
