She looks at me like I’m saying it just to make her feel better.
I cup her face gently, guiding her gaze back to mine.
“Like I said,” I murmur. “Gorgeous.”
She gives me a soft smile. Before she can argue, I lean in and kiss her—slower this time, but deeper, more certain. There’s intent behind it, not force. I want her to understand what I mean.
Her hand curls into my shirt, gripping it like she needs the anchor, and I slide one hand to her neck, steady and warm. When my fingers brush her collarbone, she startles slightly, then stills, trying to hide it.
I notice and file it away for next time.
I let my hands drift lower, brushing over her breast, testing the space between us. I watch her closely for any sign she wants me to stop. Her breath catches, just barely, but it’s enough to make my pulse spike. I tug lightly at the hem of her sweatshirt, giving her the chance to pull away.
She doesn’t.
Instead, she breaks the kiss and looks at me for a second, her expression unreadable. Her hands come up to mine, gently pushing them away.
Great. Too far.
But then, she reaches for the hem of her sweatshirt herself and pulls it over her head. The cool night air hits her skin, and goosebumps rise instantly along her arms.
She’s still wearing the blue T-shirt, the fabric fitting her perfectly, and suddenly I’m painfully aware of just how close we are. I see just enough to want more.
“I don’t think you realize,” I murmur, my voice low and growly, “what you’re doing to me right now.”
“Do you want to show me, or better yet, tell me?” she asks, softly.
God, this woman. Another groan slips out as my cock begs to be freed from my sweats. I decide I’ll do both and bring this girl over the edge.
“I would start by doing this.” I lean down and kiss that spot on her collarbone I noticed made her jump before. She does slightly, letting out a soft moan, and my cock twitches again.
“Well, well, well, that seems to be the spot.” I kiss it again. “And then I would do this.”
I go back to peppering kisses along her collarbone, my hands sliding down to the hem of her shirt before moving over the bare skin of her stomach. I can feel her breath hitch beneath my palms, her stomach tightening with each inhale.
I lift my head and look into her eyes. The look she gives me is uncertain, like she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to react.
“If you want me to keep going, I will. But once you say stop, I stop. Okay?”
She answers with a shake of her head.
“I need you to say it.”
“Yes,” she says quietly. It’s not quite enough, but I let it slide.
“Good girl. Now back to what I was doing.”
I keep my left hand on her waist and move my right hand to her neck. I kiss her again, and this time she kisses me back with the hunger I was hoping for. I weave my fingers into her hair and tug just enough to tilt her chin up. I trail slow, deliberate kisses along her jawline, then down her neck to her collarbone.
She moans, and the sound makes my cock somehow even harder.
I know I need to move this inside before the neighbors get a show.
Before I can do anything else, she grabs my shirt, and I look up. She’s wearing a soft smile, but her eyes look glassy—like she’s on the verge of crying.
Shit.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I just don’t–”
