“What’s going on in your head?” she asks me.
I drag my thumb over her cheek. “Nothing.”
“Something.”
Fuck it.
“I was wondering how I keep you? What can I do to keep you?”
She opens her mouth, closing it quickly, searching somewhere in the air for answers. “You’re doing it. I promise. I just move slower.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Then that’s all. I’m yours.”
She surprises us both with those words, and I close the space between us, bringing my lips to hers. She allows entrance immediately, and in no time, our tongues are dancing together while our hands roam our bodies—hers on my chest and mine on the curve of her ass.
Her perfect ass.
Her hands travel up my chest to my throat, tugging me down as her fingers catch in my hair. A rough sound breaks from me. I lift her, setting her on the counter as her breath hitches against my mouth.
“Too much?” I ask. Her beautiful, clear eyes bounce between mine, to my lips, and back up as she shakes her head, taking my glasses off and setting them on the counter.
I go in, straight to her lips, our mouths crashing in a controlled kiss. I want to unravel her until her control snaps and she’s putty in my hands, but she asked for slow, for patience, and I’m happy to provide.
Then, she licks my bottom lip, pulling it into her mouth and biting gently, muscle memory, I bet, since she does the same to hers. Her legs open, allowing me in between them, our hands roaming, our breaths catching, our tongues tangling with each other. She pulls at the bottom of my hair, and I hiss into her mouth.
“Natalie.” Her name leaves my lips as a plea. Have mercy on me, woman.
“Mm?”
“I’m trying real hard here, but we need to slow down if you don’t want to take this further.”
She blinks those giant greenish blues at me, considering my words, and then she tilts her head forward, oh so silently, giving me most of the answers I need. She crashes her lips to mine again, hurried, unraveled.
“Nat,” I whisper again, and I might hate myself for it, but I need her to be sure. One hundred and ten percent sure. “If at any point it’s too much, you say stop, and we stop, okay?”
“Yes,” she whispers against my lips before diving deep for another kiss. This one is deeper, sexier; this one feels like she’s craving more. She tugs at my hair, pulling a groan from my lips.
I hold her neck in my hand, careful not to pull too hard but completely getting lost in her. In no time, her breasts are in my hands, and she’s arching against my touch.
Everything is heightened. The way her skin feels as my fingers explore the edge of her top, right under the apron. Theway little noises catch in her throat, swallowed by our tongues, driving me insane with what might happen next. The way she tastes—like my favorite dessert. The way she smells, sweet and fresh and very close to me, wanting her forever in my life.
She gets closer, impossibly close, allowing my dick to rest nestled between her thighs. This feels like heaven, her in my arms and letting me in a little bit more. My hands inch under her shirt, climbing up her soft stomach. My fingers explore over what I assume are stretch marks, finding small bumps as I go, and then she freezes. Completely stops kissing me.
She’s not breathing.
I open my eyes and find pure fear behind hers, so I pull my hand out and look at her.
She shakes her head, pushing me away and hopping down from the counter. “I’m so sorry." Her words are like a knife straight to my heart.
“It’s okay,” I say, careful not to touch her, even if that’s all I want to do right now.
She breathes heavily, hand on the counter and another on her back as she faces away from me.
“Natalie, really. It’s okay. Your pace, okay?”
“Okay,” she says, her words shaky. “I need a minute.” She disappears, leaving me in the kitchen alone with my thoughts, wondering what happened.
