God, she was stunning. The way her hair fell around her face. The concentration in her expression. The slight curve of her lips when she felt me shiver under her touch.
"Ava—"
"Shh." She pushed the fabric aside and pressed her lips to my chest. "You've been taking care of everyone else for months. Tonight is about you."
Her hands found my belt. My brain stopped working.
She undressed me with a patience I didn't deserve, dropping kisses on every inch of skin she revealed. Her mouth on my hip bone made me groan. Her fingers trailing down my thighs made me grip the sheets. By the time she'd stripped me bare, I was shaking.
Her eyes traveled down my body with an intensity that made heat pool low in my stomach. Then she pulled her own shirt over her head, and the sight of her knocked the breath from my lungs.
Soft skin. The curve of her waist. The swell of her breasts in that simple black bra. She was lean from years of running, but there was nothing hard about her—not here. Not with me. All softness. All warmth. I wanted my mouth on every inch of her.
"Any complaints?" she asked, reaching back to unclasp her bra.
"None. Zero. Absolutely not."
The bra fell away, and I stopped breathing entirely. I'd seen her naked before—many times now—but it still knocked the air out of me. The way her skin flushed under my gaze. She was perfect.
"You're staring," she murmured, but she was smiling.
"Can't help it." My voice came out rough. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
She laughed, low and warm, and slid out of her remaining clothes before lowering herself over me.
That first moment was always overwhelming. The heat of her, the warmth as she took me in, the way she fit around me like we were made for this. My hands flew to her hips, fingers digging into soft skin, and I had to close my eyes against the intensity of it.
Her green eyes were dark with desire, lips parted, cheeks flushed. Completely open in a way she never was with anyone else. This was Ava without walls. Without armor. Just her, trusting me with everything she was.
"I love you," I told her.
"I love you too." Her voice broke on the last word as she started to move. "God, I love you."
She set the pace, and I let her. Slow at first, torturously slow, rolling her hips in a rhythm that made me want to beg. My hands roamed her body—the curve of her waist, the softness of her stomach, and then my hands traveled higher up. She gasped and arched into my touch.
"Brian—"
I sat up without warning, wrapped my arms around her, and changed the angle. She cried out, fingers digging into my shoulders, legs tightening around my waist. Like this, I could feel every inch of her pressed against me. Her breath was hot on my neck. Her body clenching around me.
We moved together, her forehead pressed to mine. Close as two people could be. I could feel her getting close—the way she tensed, the way her breathing went ragged, the way she started making those small, desperate sounds that drove me crazy.
"That's it," I murmured against her throat.
I slid a hand between us, found the spot that made her gasp. The sounds she was making were going to be the death of me.
"Brian—I'm going to?—"
"I know. I've got you."
She fell apart with a cry, her whole body trembling, fingers digging into my back hard enough to leave marks. I watched her face—the way her eyes squeezed shut, the way her lips parted, the way pleasure transformed her features into something sacred. I'd never get used to this. Being the one who got to see her like this.
I followed her over the edge. The heat that had been building low in my spine crested and broke, and I buried my face in her neck as I found my own release, her arms tight around me, her voice in my ear whisperingyesandI love youanddon't stop.
We collapsed back onto the mattress, tangled together, both of us breathing hard. Her skin was damp against mine, her heart pounding where she pressed against my side.
"That was—" she started.
"Yeah."
