“Again.”
“I love you, Carson Black.” She framed his face with her hands. “I love that you believed me when no one else would. I love that you’re terrible at emotional conversations but you try anyway. I love that you make me feel safe and seen and worth fighting for.”
He kissed her—deep and claiming, one hand sliding up her back to tangle in her hair. Nora responded immediately, pressing closer, needing him nearer.
The kiss turned heated quickly. Carson’s hand tightened in her hair, angling her head to deepen the kiss. Nora’s fingers slid under his shirt, exploring the warm skin beneath.
Carson pulled back, breathing hard. “Nora. We should slow down.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ve been through trauma. Because I don’t want you to feel pressured. Because—”
She silenced him with another kiss. “I’m not traumatized right now. I’m not scared. I’m just a woman who wants the man she loves.” She pulled back to look at him. “Unless you don’t want—”
“I want.” His voice was rough. “God, Nora, I want. But I need you to be sure. Need to know you’re doing this because you want to, not because you feel like you should.”
“I’m sure.” She held his gaze. “I want this. I want you. I’ve wanted you since that night at your apartment when you kissed me and then pulled away.”
“That was a mistake. Pulling away.”
“Then don’t make the same mistake twice.”
Carson studied her face for a long moment, clearly warring with himself. Then something in his expression shifted. A decision made.
He stood, lifting her with him. Nora wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her to the bedroom, never breaking eye contact.
“If you want to stop at any point,” Carson said, laying her on the bed. “Tell me. No questions asked.”
“I won’t want to stop.”
“But if you do—”
“I’ll tell you.” She pulled him down to her. “Now stop talking and kiss me.”
He did.
***
Carson had imagined this. More times than he’d admit. The way Nora would look beneath him. The sounds she’d make as he moved inside her. The way she’d feel in his arms.
But the reality was so much better than any fantasy.
She was soft and warm and responsive, arching into his touch, making little sounds that drove himcrazy. And the way she looked at him—like he was everything she’d ever wanted—made something in his chest crack open.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured against her skin, kissing down her neck to her collarbone to her breasts, taking each nipple into his mouth to tease with his tongue.
“So are you.”
“Men aren’t beautiful,” moving back up to taste her mouth again.
“You are.” Her hands slid up his back, ankles locking around his hips, pulling him closer. “You’re beautiful and brave and mine.”
Mine.The possessiveness in her voice made heat race through him.
He took his time exploring her—learning what made her gasp, what made her arch, what made her say his name in that breathless way that destroyed his control. This wasn’t just physical. It was claiming. Promising. Showing her without words how much she meant to him.
“Carson.” His name was a plea. “Please.”
