I slide my hand up her thigh, watching her face. Her eyes are half-closed, lips parted, and when my fingers brush against the cotton between her legs, her whole body jerks.
"Sensitive," I murmur.
"It's been a while."
"How long?"
"Long enough that if you don't touch me properly in the next three seconds, I'm going to—oh—"
I slip my fingers beneath the cotton and find her wet. So wet. For me. Because of me. The realization makes me dizzy. I have her panties off in two seconds.
I stroke her slowly, learning her, figuring out what makes her gasp and what makes her moan. She likes it when I circle her clit with my thumb. She likes it more when I slide a finger inside her and curl it just right.
Then I'm kissing her again, my tongue thrusting into her mouth in rhythm with my finger. I add a second finger, and she falls apart.
She’s beautiful to watch. Her back arches off the couch, her hands fisting in my hair, and she cries out my name like a prayer. I work her through it, drawing out every last shudder, and when she finally goes limp beneath me, I'm so hard it's painful.
She opens her eyes. They're glazed, unfocused, and she's looking at me like I hung the moon.
"That was—"
"Yeah?"
"I can't feel my legs."
I grin. "Good."
"Come here."
She kisses me, deep and slow. I can feel her heart pounding against my chest. Or maybe that's mine. It's hard to tell.
Her hand slides down my stomach, heading for my belt, and I catch her wrist.
"Wait."
She blinks. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Nothing's wrong. I just—" I take a breath. Try to think through the haze of want. "If we keep going, I'm not going to be able to stop."
"Maybe I don't want you to stop."
"Madison."
"Jake."
"I'm serious." I sit up, putting some distance between us. "This is already… we're already—"
"Already what?"
I don't have words for it. That's the problem. I've done this before: the attraction, the heat, the fall into bed with someone new. It's familiar territory. Easy.
This doesn't feel easy. This feels like standing at the edge of something I can't see the bottom of.
"Moving fast," I finally say. "Too fast."
"Three days is too fast?"
"For me, it's usually three hours."
