Jesus.
I tossed the shirt aside and just looked. Her skin was flawless—smooth, warm under my palms as I traced the line of her collarbone, down to the swell above her bra. Goosebumps followed my touch, and her nipples hardened against the lace, begging for attention.
"You're perfect," I said, voice rougher than I intended.
She shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "No one's perfect."
"You are." I meant it. In that moment, she was everything clean and good that I'd forgotten existed.
I leaned in, pressing my mouth to the hollow of her throat, tasting salt and sweetness. My hands cupped her breasts, thumbs brushing over the peaks through the lace. She arched into me, a soft gasp escaping her lips. I did it again, harder, rolling them between my fingers until she whimpered.
"More," she breathed.
That word. From her. It lit a fire in me.
I reached behind her, unclasping the bra with one hand—old skills never die—and slid it off her shoulders. Her breasts spilled free, full and soft, nipples dusky pink and begging. I took one in my mouth, sucking gently at first, then harder, my tongue flicking over the tip while my hand worked the other.
She moaned, her fingers digging into my scalp, pulling me closer. "Micah ..."
Hearing my name like that—breathless, needy—nearly broke me. I switched sides, giving the other breast the same attention, my free hand sliding down her stomach, tracing the soft skin there. She was trembling now, her body responding to every touch like it was the first time.
Maybe it was.
The thought hit me like cold water. I pulled back, searching her face. "Have you done this before?"
Her cheeks flushed deeper, but she met my eyes. "No."
Virgin. Of course, she was. Sweet, careful Joy. Untouched. And here I was, ready to wreck her.
I started to pull away. "We should?—"
"No." Her hands caught my shirt, holding me in place. "Don't stop. I want this. With you."
Fuck. The trust in her voice. It should've scared me off. Instead, it pulled me under.
I kissed her again, slower this time, pouring everything I couldn't say into it. My hands explored—down her sides, over her hips, hooking into the waistband of her shorts. I tugged, and she lifted her hips, letting me slide them off along with her panties.
Naked. Completely naked in front of me.
I drank her in—long legs, the soft curve of her belly, the neat triangle of blonde curls between her thighs. She was wet already, glistening, and the sight made my cock throb painfully against my jeans.
"Beautiful," I murmured, my voice gravel.
She shifted under my gaze, not hiding, but vulnerable. "Micah ..."
I knelt in front of her, parting her thighs with my hands. She gasped as I settled between them, my breath hot against her skin. I kissed the inside of one thigh, then the other, working my way up slowly, savoring the way she trembled.
When my mouth finally reached her center, I paused, looking up at her. Her eyes were wide, lips parted, watching me.
"Tell me if it's too much," I said.
She nodded, biting her lip.
I leaned in, my tongue flicking out to taste her. Sweet. Slick. Perfect. She bucked against my mouth, a soft cry escaping her. I held her hips steady, licking slowly at first—long strokes that parted her folds, circling her clit without touching it directly.
Teasing.
Building.
