Before was desperate, frantic, two people colliding because they couldn't stop themselves. This is slow. Deliberate. Carter'smouth moves against mine like he has all the time in the world, like there's nowhere else he needs to be. His hands slide from my face into my hair, cradling my skull, tilting my head to deepen the kiss.
I make a sound—something between a moan and a whimper—and my hands fist in his shirt, pulling him closer. But Carter doesn't speed up. He just keeps kissing me, slow and thorough, until my knees are weak and I'm trembling against him.
"Bedroom," he says against my mouth.
I nod, not trusting my voice.
He takes my hand—takes myhand, like this is something tender and leads me down the hall to the bedroom with its brass bed and thick quilt. The window is dark now against the night.
Carter turns me to face him and starts undressing me like I'm something precious. He pulls my shirt over my head slowly, runs his hands down my sides, traces the lines of my ribs. Every touch sends sparks through my overheated skin. I'm gasping by the time he hooks his fingers in my waistband and draws my joggers down my hips.
"You're beautiful," he says quietly.
I don't know what to do with that. No one has ever called me beautiful before.
"Carter—"
"Let me," he says. "Let me take care of you."
He eases me back onto the bed and stands over me for a moment, just looking.
Then he starts undressing himself, and I lose the ability to think at all.
I've seen Carter naked before. Many times. But I've never watched him like this. I’ve never had the time or clarity to appreciate the breadth of his shoulders, the definition of his chest, the way his muscles shift under his skin as he moves. He's built like something classical, like a statue come to life, andwhen he crawls over me on the bed, I reach up to touch without thinking.
My hands map his chest, his shoulders, his arms. The texture of his skin. The heat of him. He lets me explore, holding himself above me, watching my face while I touch him.
"I never—" I start, then stop. I don't know what I'm trying to say.
"I know," Carter says. "Me neither."
He lowers himself slowly, covering my body with his, and the full-length contact makes me cry out. Skin against skin. His weight pressing me into the mattress. His scent everywhere, overwhelming, perfect.
He starts kissing down my neck, my collarbone, my chest. Every press of his lips is deliberate, unhurried. He finds the spots that make me gasp and lingers there, learning me in a way he never has before. By the time he reaches my hip bones, I'm writhing, desperate, begging in broken syllables that don't quite form words.
"Please," I manage. "Please, I need—"
"I know what you need."
He works his way back up my body just as slowly, mouth and hands everywhere, until I'm nearly sobbing with want. The heat is a living thing inside me now, demanding and relentless, but Carter seems determined to draw this out. To make me feel every second of it.
"Please," I manage. "Please, I need—"
"I know what you need," he says again, his voice rough. He's affected too. I can see it in the tension of his muscles and the way his hands shake slightly as they move over my skin. But he's holding himself back. Controlling himself. For me.
He kisses my mouth again, deep and slow, and I taste myself on his lips. One of his hands slides down my body, between my legs, and I arch into the touch with a broken sound. He takeshis time there too, working me open, getting me ready, until I'm slick and trembling and desperate.
"Carter," I gasp. "Carter, please, I can't—"
"You can." He kisses my temple, my cheekbone, the corner of my mouth. "You're doing so well. Just a little longer."
I don't know why those words make something crack open in my chest. I don't know why being told I'm doing well, that I can take this, that he's got me, makes me want to cry. No one has ever talked to me like this during sex. No one has ever made me feel like I was something to be cherished rather than just used.
When he finally, finally positions himself between my thighs, I wrap around him immediately, legs hooking behind his back, arms around his neck, pulling him as close as I can get.
"Look at me," Carter says.
I open my eyes. I didn't realize I'd closed them.
