I could imagine us in wedding finery. Or fancy dress. In a castle. On a beach. Or maybe even a hospital hallway, stealing a moment together on shift.
But that would never happen. I wasn’t—I couldn’t be there again.
I stumbled out of the dip, but clung to him as he course-corrected us upright.
This wasn’t some fantasy. Whatever we had was real. It was now. I couldn’t let this chance at love slip away just because of exhaustion, because I’d failed at my other dreams. We could still be…something.
I had to find the energy.
He brushed my hair aside and studied my face with worry. “You okay, pidge?”
“Yes.” Even more so when I didn’t think about it. I kissed him with everything I could muster.
“Tori,” he murmured, tightening his grip on my waist.
For a moment, we teetered, clutching, kissing, and chuckling in an intimate rhythm. The push and pull revitalized me. He led me into another room, where we stumbled onto a couch with soft, cream-colored blankets. Time stretched as we fit together. He was unhurried and tender. Everything felt better. I got a whole-body massage just by pressing myself into him. Love was a hell of a medicine, numbing me to everything but this wonderful dance.
I tilted my head to breathe, my spine arching as he kissed from my neck to the center of my chest. Everything was electric. Pulsing.
“You feel so good,” I panted, combing his silky hair.
He nuzzled my breast and rasped, “How do you want me?”
“Everywhere,” I said.
He gave me a rakish grin, then kissed me, caressing me on the tender arch of my foot and around my knees. He cupped my ass and gave it a firm squeeze before chasing all my tension into a pool of simmering need.
My gosh, he was good with his hands.
He palmed my breast and commanded my nerve endings to sing for him. My incoherent pleas rang into the empty living room. I wanted him. Wanted more of this. He ground his erection against me, and I keened.
Heavenly.
I rubbed his arrow piercing between my fingers. This was fixing something inside me. Ecstasy. Energy. Finally, I was excited to be with somebody.
I could trust him enough to fall apart, knowing he'd put me back together. For now. Maybe forever.
When he plucked my nipple over my shirt, my sex fluttered with need. I could only imagine if this was skin-to-skin, if he was inside of me.
“Angel,” I moaned, hooking my legs around him to simulate what it’d be like to make love.
He sucked kisses across my jaw. “I thought you were too tired for anythingthisexciting.”
I shuddered with glee. “The coffee just kicked in.”
He hummed against my skin. “Must be pretty special coffee."
“You're special to me too,” I whispered.
“Oh, Tori.” He kissed me hard enough to send pulses of endorphins through my whole body.
I was in a dream, a fantasy with a man who adored me.
Was having sex with him right now too reckless? Did I need to do the proper steps? Hands, mouths, then…penetrative? A guy like him might lose interest if I didn’t excite him on a regular basis.
Not that placating someone was a good enough reason to have sex. Iwantedto make love with someone who made me feel like he did. But when?
Everything was wonderful so far: his flexing muscles under my fingertips, the shallow grind of our hips, and passionate, doting kisses.
