But when his tongue flicks out, I can’t hold back. I rub myself against him reflexively, open my mouth on his, and moan, every part of my body aching.
With that movement, with that sound, something in him breaks free.
I’m ravished. I’m ravaged. It’s no longer just a kiss. It’s a claiming, his hands everywhere at once. And sweet Lord, I want it all.
We finally tear apart to breathe, and I stare back at him, dazed shock in my eyes.
He watches me with an intensity that has me back to shy, back to feeling like he’s seeing every part of me, every light and shadow, all I am and all I carry, in a way that no one else has. My body is shivering with anticipation.
He must sense it because he rolls over so he’s above me and runs his knuckles gently along my cheek. “You’re nervous,” he says with a piercing stare.
I nod.
His finger traces my lips. “Why?”
I breathe out a strangled laugh. “This feels so… big,” I admit. “We’ve known each other for so long. And I know everything is changing anyway, and I know this doesn’t have to mean anything but—”
“Fuck that. This means something, Em,” he says roughly as he tilts my chin up so our eyes clash, mine uncertain and his fierce. “Don’t you dare ever think differently.”
“It—it means something to me as well.” It’s scary admitting it. But I’m working on being less cautious and more brave.
At my words, his eyes close. And though it doesn’t seem possible, I wonder if he feels as overwhelmed as I do.
“You don’t know—” He breaks off. “I’m bad at words. I’m just going to have to show you,” he says, and then he’s kissing me again as if I’m all that’s tethering him to a world that’s spinning out of control.
When we finally break apart, panting, he gently lifts my shirt, revealing skin inch by slow inch.
I can barely breathe. I’m amazed that after all these years we’re here, in this moment.
His breath catches when my breasts are finally revealed. His gaze, hot and needy, brands me. My nipples are so tight it’s almost painful.
“Baby,” he says raggedly. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”
I gasp when his mouth connects with the tip of my breast. He takes that little bud in his mouth and sucks. Wet heat pools at my center, and I wriggle desperately beneath him. Needing his mouth everywhere.
And bless him, it’s as if he can read my mind because he kisses and licks his way from one breast to the other as if I’m his favorite meal. And all the while, one of his large hands makes its way down my stomach to play with the top seam of my underwear, so close to where I need him, but still so achingly far away.
I pull off his shirt, admiring the naked chest I reveal. I’m obsessed with the way the low light plays against the valleys and planes of his muscle, leading down to an impressive eight-pack. I trail my fingers over every bit of skin on display. And in the name of being brave, I continue my path to his boxers.
He sucks in a breath when my hand reaches him through the fabric. He’s intimidatingly large. Emboldened by his response, I rub firmer.
“Careful,” he groans, closing his eyes. “You have me way too turned on already.”
“Good.” I reach in to touch him.
He grabs my wrist and drags it above me. Next, he does the same with my other arm. “I have one rule.”
“What is it?”
His brow arches in amusement. “Emma always comes first,” he says, then he drags my panties down, slowly, slowly, kissing every inch of skin that’s revealed.
When I’m bare for him, he positions himself more firmly between my legs, extending my knees apart so he has an even more intimate view. I shift away a bit, biting my lip, feeling vulnerable.
But his eyes are anchors holding me in place, looking up with a fierce possessiveness. “You’re so gorgeous. So wet, baby,” he praises. “And I’m going to make you even wetter.”
There.
“Oh God, do that again,” I beg, forgetting all about any insecurities, closing my eyes at the sensation of his fingers on my most intimate skin.
