She doesn’t pull away. Her fingers drift lower, skating over every scar, every place I once swore no one would touch. Each pass feels like a match striking against the ice that’s kept me locked away.
Her fingers press a little harder, tracing the line of muscle down to my ribs. I can’t help it, my breath hitches. My chest rises into her palm, silently begging for more.
“Touch me, please.” My voice is rough, raw. I don’t ask for things like this, but I’m askingher.
Nova looks up, her eyes blazing, half fire, half tenderness. The way she watches me?
It’s like she’s touching my soul as much as my skin.
She presses her palm flat against my heart, and something inside me breaks. Not in the way that hurts. No, it’s the kind of breaking that makes you whole.
I close my eyes and sink into it.
Her fingertips continue their slow, maddening path up my neck, across my jaw, and brushing over my shoulder. She lingers there, and my breath catches again.
When I open my eyes, she’s still watching me, and, God, there’s so much love in her expression that it wrecks me.
“Lie on your stomach for me.”
I hesitate. Lying on my stomach makes me vulnerable. There’s no defense in that position. But this is Nova. She’s not here to hurt me.
I’msafewith her.
Slowly, I roll over, every muscle tight as a bowstring. My breathing is uneven, and I hate how exposed I feel, but then her hand skims down my back, andfuck, everything unravels.
Her fingers trace the ridges of my spine, following the line all the way down. But my skin is hypersensitive. Every pass of her fingers sends jolts of electricity straight to my cock.
By the time her hand reaches the small of my back, I’m burning from the inside out.
I shift against the mattress, biting back a groan as heat pools low in my stomach.
“You’re shaking,” she whispers, her hand pressing a little firmer. “I’ve got you.”
I’m coming apart at the seams, not from fear but from her touch and the slow, deliberate way she’s unraveling every wall I’ve ever built.
She drags her nails lightly up my back, and my entire body arches without my permission. A sound escapes me—half growl, half plea.
God, help me.
Her hand slides lower again, tracing slow circles over my lower back, then up to my shoulder blades. I press into the mattress, but it doesn’t help. It only makes the friction worse. I’m painfully hard again, my entire body wired and buzzing from her touch.
“Nova,” I rasp.
She leans over me, brushing her lips against the nape of my neck. “I’m here.”
My fear doesn’t stand a chance against her.
I’m not falling apart anymore.
I’m falling into her.
Her touch leaves me when she stretches out on her stomach beside me, sliding her hands beneath the pillow. I push myself up to my elbows and watch how her back arches, every line of her graceful, her hair spilling over her shoulder like silk.
My pulse is still pounding from everything she’s undone in me.
But now?
Now it’s my turn.
