I nod again, a little more sure this time. “I want you to. I want… I want you.”
Damien grins and begins lifting the fabric, his knuckles brushing my skin as he goes. My breath hitches, nerves lighting up wherever he touches. But then, halfway up, white-hot panic flares when I remember what I put on after getting back from the pond—the bralette. I needed comfort, never expecting anyone to see it, let alone him.
I freeze, fingers clamping over the fabric, holding it bunched at my ribs. My ears burn and my heart stutters.
He pauses immediately. “Noah?” His voice is so careful, so gentle, it almost hurts. “Talk to me. Do you want to change your mind? You can, even after you’ve said yes. I won’t be mad, I promise.”
I shake my head, mortified and blinking too fast, everything blurring, and my mouth goes dry. “No, I don’t want to—I just—” The words get stuck. I force myself to breathe. “I forgot—I mean—I didn’t think about what I was wearing—can take it off—”
He stops me, his hand coming to rest over mine, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over my knuckles. Reluctantly, I meet his gaze. There’s no judgment there, no shock or confusion—just that same open, aching affection.
“If I just caught a glimpse of what I think I did, then I’m gonna need a second to remember how to breathe,” he says, biting back a groan. “Are you wearing lace under this?”
I wait for the punchline to come, for the laughter to shine in his eyes, but… there’s nothing except clear lust in his eyes. I nod, because my voice is somewhere between the back of my throat and whatever dimension embarrassment lives in.
“Fuck,”he sighs, then leans down and kisses me again, deeper this time, gripping my hips with trembling hands. His body is still gentle above me, all solid muscle and careful restraint. He breaks the kiss and breathes against my lips, “Can I see you, Blue?”
I hesitate, heart jackhammering in my chest, but I suck in a breath and will myself to be brave as I let go of the shirt. He lifts it slowly, giving me every chance to change my mind, until the shirt is gone and the bralette is exposed—a soft, powder-blue thing with delicate lace at the band.
I can’t look at him, can’t look anywhere but down. Shame floods my chest, sticky and heavy, and I can’t breathe. “I’msorry,” I mumble, cheeks burning. “I know it’s weird. I shouldn’t have—”
The sound Damien makes isn’t a laugh. It’s a low, rough groan, ripped from somewhere deep in his chest. Before I can move, his hands are on my waist, gripping me hard. He leans in, pressing his lips to my stomach, open-mouthed and hungry, and suddenly all my nerves are lit up for an entirely different reason.
“Don’t you dare apologize. Goddamn…” He runs his hands up, fingers spreading across my stomach, holding me in place. His eyes flick up to mine, pupils blown. “You’re stunning.”
I stare, lips parted, still lost in confusion and embarrassment. “Damien—”
“Is it a set?” His eyes are wild, searching mine, hungry and worshipful, and on the edge of losing it. “Tell me, baby. Are you wearing matching panties under your sweats?”
I nod, swallowing hard, cheeks burning so fiercely I’m sure he can feel the heat coming off me. “Yeah. I—I am.”
He lets out another strangled groan, burying his face against my stomach for a second, hands sliding up my sides. “You’re going to kill me,” he mutters, voice shaking. “You’re actually going to fucking kill me.”
He looks up and cups my jaw in one big, shaking hand. “You’re so gorgeous, Noah. You know that? You don’t ever have to hide from me. I want you—every part of you. This…” he trails off as he traces the lace with his thumb, eyes gentle but still so full of heat it makes me ache. “...is so fucking hot I can’t even think straight.”
I’m blushing so hard my ears burn, but I don’t flinch; not with the way he’s looking at me. “You really… like it?”
“I love it. Fuck, you could wear anything, and I’d still want you, but this?” He sucks in a stuttered breath. “Thank you for letting me see you. I know that’s not easy. I know it costs you somethingto be this open with me, but I want you to know I’m honored, Blue. I’m so fucking honored.”
A surge of relief floods me, chasing the shame right out of my chest. I can’t tell if I’m melting from embarrassment or arousal, but either way, I don’t stop him when his mouth keeps moving lower. He doesn’t go further than the waistband of my sweats, but the kisses trail along the curve of my hip, each one soft until he reaches my neck again and places a kiss on my lips.
“Let me take care of you tonight,” he whispers. “Nothing you’re not ready for. I won’t take anything else off unless you ask. I just want to touch you. Make you feel good. Let you know how much you’re wanted. How much I see you.”
I nod, clutching his shoulder, surrendering to the thrill of letting him have me, letting him see me, want me, cherish every part of me I used to hide.
He places more slow kisses down my sternum, always making sure I’m with him. He groans again, a sound that vibrates through his chest, through me, and I realize I’m not embarrassed anymore. I’m wanted. Fiercely, fully, without question.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Babygirl,” Damien whispers, voice unsteady. “Don’t ever hide from me again. You’re mine. All of you. Every damn inch.”
The wordBabygirllands between us—a spark in dry grass. For a split second, I freeze, shocked at how it sounds coming from him, how it sounds wrapped around me. My breath comes out shaky, and Damien’s mouth curls into a slow, dangerous smile as he realizes just what he’s done.
“Oh, you like that?” he murmurs, voice just a rasp of smoke as his fingers trace the lace again, thumb dipping just beneath the band. “Yeah, you do. Look at you preening, pretty thing.”
I shudder, unable to stop the sound that leaves me. He smiles, but it’s not the cocky smirk he gives the world. It’s wrecked and honest, as if I’ve undone something in him just by existing.
“I didn’t know it’d feel this way,” I whisper, breath hitching when his nose brushes my neck. “I thought I’d be embarrassed. I thought you’d laugh, or—or think it’s weird.”
He pulls back and looks me in the eye. “Never. There’s nothing weird about you or needing to dress like this to feel beautiful and safe. You wearing lace is hot, but you being yourself is the sexiest fucking thing in the world to me. You trusting me with this?” He drags his fingers slowly down to my hips, pressing his mouth to the dip between them. “That’s a fucking privilege.”
