I kiss her again. Slower this time, but deeper. My hand continues its path, cupping her breast, and she lets out a breathy moan that she clearly didn’t mean to make.
It lights me up from the inside.
I roll her nipple between my fingers and she arches into my touch again, gasping. I use the momentum to roll her onto her back, shifting partially on top of her, bracing myself on one arm so I don’t crush her.
I kiss down her neck. She tilts her head back, giving me access, her fingers threading into my hair.
“Kyron…”
“I know.”
I kiss down her chest, over the thin fabric of my shirt. My fingers splay across her stomach underneath, feeling the heat of her skin, the rapid rise and fall of her breathing.
“Can I?”
She nods.
I push up her shirt slowly, kissing my way back up as I expose her. When the fabric clears her breasts, she gasps—the cold air of the room hitting her heated skin.
I pause. Look at her. Really look.
“You’re beautiful, Nova.”
Her cheeks flush darker. She tries to look away but I catch her chin, bring her eyes back to mine.
“I mean it. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Then I lower my head and take her nipple into my mouth.
She cries out—surprised, overwhelmed—and her hands fly to my hair, gripping hard. I lavish attention on one breast, then the other, until she’s squirming beneath me, making sounds that are going to live in my head forever.
I start kissing lower.
Down her ribs. Across her stomach. I feel her tense when she realizes where I’m headed.
“You don’t have to—”
I pause. My mouth is right there, hovering over the waistband of her underwear. Close enough that she can feel my breath through the thin cotton.
“Oh?” I look up at her. “I don’t have to?”
She squirms. Her hips twitch toward me without her permission.
“Youdon’t want me to?”
“I—” Her voice is strained. “I just meant—”
I press a single kiss to the inside of her thigh. Light. Barely there.
“Are you sure?”
Her whole body shudders. She’s losing the battle—I can see it in the way her chest is heaving, the way her thighs are trembling, the way she keeps trying to form words and failing.
I breathe against her center, letting her feel the warmth through the fabric.
“Kyron—” She breaks. “I take it back.”
“So you want me to?”
