He kisses me again, slower this time, deeper. Like he’s mapping every part of my mouth, like he’s memorizing the way I taste.
His hand finds my waist, then slides under my shirt. Just his palm, warm and steady against my bare skin, and I shiver.
“Cold?” he murmurs against my lips.
“No.” I tug at the hem of my shirt. “Please.”
He helps me, careful not to rush. When the fabric clears my head, his eyes darken.
His palm returns, this time sliding up my spine, over my ribs, to the band of my bra.
“You sure?” he asks again, voice rough. “You can still stop this, Nadia.”
“I’m sure.”
He nods, then unhooks my bra with one hand like it’s muscle memory. His eyes don’t leave mine when he slides the straps down my shoulders.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, like it’s not even up for debate.
I don’t look away. Not when he lowers his head and brushes his mouth across the curve of my breast, not when his tongue circles my nipple in slow swirls. My back arches before I can stop it.
A sound escapes me, low and startled, and he groans like it undoes him.
“Tell me what you like,” he says, mouth still against my skin.
“I don’t know yet,” I whisper.
He grins against my chest. “Then I’ll find out.”
He kisses his way down my belly, his hands on my hips, grounding me when I start to tremble. He makes quick work of my jeans, sliding them down with my underwear in one smooth motion.
Every nerve lights up. I’m bare, beneath him, and his gaze is all over me.
“You’re shaking,” he says.
“I’m not afraid.”
“No,” he agrees, his voice rough. “I think you’reready.”
He moves down the bed, settles between my thighs, and kisses the inside of one knee. Then higher. Then higher still.
By the time his breath hits my pussy, I’m gasping.
The first press of his mouth is slow. Careful.
He licks gently, and I moan.
“Saint—”
He groans against me like his name in my mouth does something to him.
“You taste so fucking sweet,” he murmurs, his fingers spreading me gently. “Like heaven.”
My hips rock up. I can’t stop it. I don’t want to.
His tongue moves with purpose now. Teasing. Worshipping.
And when he slides two fingers inside me, curling them just right, my world tilts.
