"Yeah.Good different."
I kiss him again, deeper this time, letting myself feel it.Letting myself want without fear.
His hands find my waist, gentle but sure.I pull at his jacket, and he shrugs it off.Then his shirt.I press my palms against his chest, feeling his heartbeat, fast and strong.
He reaches for the hem of my jumper.Stops."Okay?"
"Yeah."
He lifts it slowly, giving me time to change my mind.I raise my arms and let him pull it over my head.
Standing there in just my bra and leggings, I feel exposed.Vulnerable.Every scar and imperfection visible.
But Tank's looking at me like I'm something precious.
"You're beautiful," he says quietly.
"I'm not?—"
"You are."
He steps closer, traces a finger along the strap of my bra, then down my arm.Gentle.Reverent.
"This okay?"he asks again.
"Yes."
We move to the bed.Every touch is deliberate.Every kiss is a question I answer with yes.
When he unhooks my bra, when he slides my leggings down, when he looks at me laid out beneath him, I expect fear.Expect the old panic to kick in.
But it doesn't come.
Just want.Just trust.Just this overwhelming need to be close to him.
"Okay?"he asks, positioned above me, eyes searching mine.
"Yes.Please."
He moves slow, so slow, watching my face the whole time, making sure I'm still with him.Still wanting this.
And I am.God, I am.
When he finally pushes inside, I gasp.Not from pain, but from the overwhelming rightness of it.The way he fills spaces I didn't know were empty.
“Okay?”His voice is wrecked, thick with restraint, like he’s hanging by a thread, barely holding himself back.
“Yes,” I breathe, voice trembling.“Don’t stop, Devin.Please.”
And he doesn’t.
He sinks into me again, slow and deep, and my mouth falls open with a sound I can’t hold in.He feels so good, thick and hot, stretching me, filling me so completely I feel it in my throat.Each thrust makes me shudder, my body tightening around him like it never wants to let go.
He moves with this aching control, like he’s savoring every second inside me.Like he wants to burn the memory of this into every inch of my skin.It’s not rushed.It’s not frantic.It’s something else entirely.Something intimate and raw and blindingly good.
His hips roll into me with a rhythm that’s almost hypnotic, grinding deep, hitting that perfect spot again and again until my toes curl and my breath catches in my chest.Every time he pulls out, it’s slow and torturous, just so he can push in again, harder, deeper, dragging another moan from me.
I can barely think.Barely speak.All I know is the way his body feels against mine, the heat of him, the weight of him pressing me into the mattress like I’m something fragile he’s holding down with reverence.His chest is slick with sweat, brushing against mine as he leans in to kiss my neck, my jaw, the corner of my mouth.
