He doesn't hesitate, doesn't pull away, just touches me like I'm something worth exploring.
"God," he murmurs, his voice thick. "You're—"
I kiss him before he can finish, rising onto my toes, and he responds immediately, his hands tightening on my hips, pulling me against him. I can feel him hard and insistent against my belly.
My hands fumble with the button of my jeans, and he helps, his fingers brushing mine as he eases the denim down my legs. When I step out of them, kicking them aside, I'm left standing in front of him in just my underwear.
He takes a step back, his eyes dragging over me slowly, and I feel the weight of his gaze. My cheeks flush under his attention.
He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his sleep pants and pushes them down, stepping out of them without hesitation.
I stare.
I can't help it.
He's… he's everything. Thick thighs, powerful legs, and between them—
"Wendy."
I drag my gaze back to his face, and he's smirking slightly, one eyebrow raised.
"Sorry," I mutter, my cheeks burning. "I just—you're—"
He crosses the distance between us in two strides and kisses me, swallowing whatever I was about to say. His hands slide around my back, unhooking my bra with surprising ease, and then we're skin-to-skin, and I can't think anymore.
The feel of his bare chest against mine is electric.
The hair there is soft and slightly scratchy, and his skin is so warm I feel like I'm melting into him. His heart pounds against mine, matching my rhythm.
He guides me backward until my legs hit the edge of the bed, then lowers me down gently, his body covering mine.
His weight presses me into the mattress, and I wrap my legs around his hips, pulling him closer. I can feel his chest, his stomach, and the hard length of him pressing against me.
"Tell me if I hurt you," he murmurs against my neck, his breath hot on my skin.
"You won't."
He kisses my throat, my collarbone, the swell of my breast, and I arch into him, my fingers tangling in his hair.
His beard brushes against my skin, sending shivers racing down my spine. His mouth is hot and wet, his tongue tracing patterns that make me gasp.
His hands move to my hips, hooking into the waistband of my underwear, and he pauses, looking up at me.
"Yes," I breathe before he can ask.
He pulls them off slowly, his knuckles dragging against my thighs, and I shiver at the contact. Then he's back, pressing against me, and the feel of his bulge makes my breath catch.
"Ezra," I whisper.
He kisses me again, deep and hungry, and then he's moving, positioning himself, and I feel the blunt press of him.
"Ready?" he asks, his voice strained.
"Yes."
He pushes forward slowly, and I gasp at the stretch, the fullness, the overwhelming sensation of him entering me inch by inch.
"Okay?" he asks, his voice tight with restraint. He's trembling slightly, every muscle taut.
