“Hey,” I say softly. “Let me.”
Jane exhales, nodding.
I pull her boots off one by one, then her socks, and set them aside neatly because that’s who I am, even when I’m falling apart.
Gooseflesh rises beneath my palms as I slide my hands up her calves.
Jane’s breath hitches.
“You okay?” I check in again.
“Yes. I just… didn’t know hands could feel like that.”
A low sound rips out of me as I hook my fingers into the waistband of her skirt, then pause, looking up. “Okay?”
She nods quickly. “Yes.”
I pull the skirt down slowly, then her underwear, giving her time to stop me.
She doesn’t.
When she's bare, she covers her face with one hand, embarrassed.
I catch her wrist and gently pull it down. “Jane.” My voice is soft. “Can you look at me?”
She peeks through her fingers first, then slowly drops her hand. Her eyes are bright with nerves, but she’s watching me now.
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” I murmur, drinking her in. “You’re gorgeous.”
Her throat bobs. “I feel... exposed.”
“I know. But you're safe.”
I spread her knees gently, not forcing, just inviting.
Jane’s breath becomes shallow as my hands slide along her thighs, stroking the sensitive inner skin with my thumbs.
She jerks slightly. “Oh.”
I smirk. “Yeah.”
Jane’s eyes widen. “Don’t smirk.”
“I’m not smirking.”
“You are.”
“I’m appreciating,” I correct, and she makes a breathless sound that might’ve been a laugh.
I lean down and kiss the inside of her knee first. Then higher. Then higher again, tasting her skin, letting anticipation build, watching her reactions like my life depends on them.
Jane’s hands twist in the sheets.
“Tex,” she moans. “Please.”
“Please, what?” I ask because she needs to own her want, not just fall into it.
Her cheeks flush. “Touch me.”
