He nods and extracts his thigh from between my own. “Hell yes.”
He follows me, his front plastered to my back, so that when we reach my bedroom and I spin around he’s right there. I lay a hand on his chest to stop him.
“Can we talk about the unsexy stuff?”
“I’m infection free,” he says. “I haven’t been with anyone in months, either.”
“Same for me,” I say. “And I have an IUD.” I drag my hand down his chest. “I have some stipulations.”
His face is flushed and his hair sticks out at odd angles from where I ran my hands through it. He’s beautiful, even with trepidation covering his features.
“Okay,” he says, “I’m listening.”
“This is still just for me.”
His shoulders slump. “I’m still not allowed to finish yet? That’s what you mean?”
I shake my head. “Take it or leave it.”
“Dammit.” He bites his lip, and I want to trace my tongue over the indentation in his skin. “I’m going to die, but okay. I’m down.” He smiles. “I did say I would do anything you asked.”
“You’ll tell me if you hate it? Or if you want to change what we’re doing? I can’t have you going along and feeling awful about it.”
“Kendall. I would give literally anything to get my hands on you in any way I can. If that’s happening, there’s no way I’m not going to like it.”
I grin back at him. In the dim light of my room, illuminatedby just a single gold lamp, he’s softer, almost like his former self is just a false memory. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed.
“What now?”
I grip the sides of my tank top and in one smooth motion pull it over my head. I’m standing in front of him in my pink satin bra. My breasts look amazing in it, I know, even if a little dart of insecurity zips through my brain. I’m gratified when Grant hangs his head and blows out a frustrated breath before he looks at me again. I can almost hear his gulp.
“God, Kendall.” He takes a step toward me, then halts. He rakes a hand down his face. “Your tits are phenomenal. Like, the best I’ve ever seen. I’m not even kidding.”
I start to unbutton my shorts so I can shimmy out of them. “Take your shirt off,” I say. I inject a little command into my voice.
He complies immediately, ripping his shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor. I stare at him while I slide my shorts down my thighs. He’s muscular, which isn’t that surprising given that his only activities are probably working and going to the gym, but I still love seeing the way his biceps pop when he crosses his arms over his chest again.
His little huff of air is so sexy I almost reach for him. He follows it with a groan. “Jesus. And your legs . . .” His eyes flick up to mine. “I could fucking devour you.”
“Maybe you’ll get that chance.” I run my hands over my body, and he shivers. “If you’re good.”
“What now?” His gaze crawls all over me, up and down.
“What do you want the most?”
“To get my hands on you,” he says quickly. His fingertips dig into his forearms, then he uncrosses his arms and steps forward.
“Not yet, then,” I say. “I don’t think you deserve it.” I give him an evil little smile.
I extract some lube from my beside table and lean back on my bed. Grant’s gaze burns another path along my body. His attention presses on me like a touch, a weighty thing that steals my breath. When I look at him, I’m gratified by his mussed hair, his glassy expression, and the tortured way he grips my doorframe, like he could crush it in his hand.
I lie down in front of him and rest my head, trailing my fingers along my abdomen. When I part myself and run a finger along my clit, Grant’s soft groan reaches somewhere primal in my brain, some long-forgotten recess of my mind. I’ve never felt like this. Knowing he’s watching me, wanting me, waiting on my instruction as I touch myself makes me incandescent with desire.
I’m trembling now, rubbing my clit as he watches.
“Kendall, please,” he says.
I sit up, shaky, and unhook my bra, slowing my movements until Grant’s fidgeting restlessly in front of me. I take it off and drop it to the floor, then lay back again. My hands find my breasts, and I run my fingertips over them, savoring the feel.
