“Of course it is.”
The music shifts into something slower, softer. I offer her my hand and rise from the chair. She embraces my hand and follows my lead into the living room. I bend down and move a chair out of the way with my other hand.
Slowly, I wrap one arm around her waist and begin to sway with her to the music. We move close together and she puts her head on my shoulder.
Rainey moves with a confidence that isn’t rehearsed, but it’s not careless, either. Her body fits into mine without hesitation, and she laughs quietly when I move us a little too slow, like she enjoys that it’s not perfect.
I’m not a dancer. Not in any way that matters. But I don’t need to be. Rainey is light in my arms, but there’s a force underneath it, a live wire that runs through her every move. She looks up at me, her eyes wide and bright, and for a minute I forget why I ever thought I could keep this easy.
The song goes on, and I lose track of time. The music shifts again, and so does the way she looks at me. Like she’s cataloging not just the moment, but what it feels like. There’s a vulnerability in her gaze now, something unguarded. I feel it in my chest with a kind of slow, spreading heat. I don’t let go of her.
The song ends, and the next track is quieter, almost a lull. Rainey keeps her head against my chest, her fingers tracing a circle at the small of my back. I keep my hand at her waist, feeling her breathing. Slow and even, like she’s finally given herself permission to stand still. I want to say something. I don’t.
Instead, I stay quiet, letting the music fill the room and the weight of her in my arms anchor me where I am. She lifts her head and looks at me, closer than before. I know what she’s going to do even before she does it.
The hand on my back flattens, and I feel her inhale, both of us standing perfectly still in the center of my living room. She tilts her chin up and my mouth meets hers. When she kisses me this time, it’s different. This one is slower, but deeper. Like she’s sure of it. Like she’s giving me an answer to a question I hadn’t asked, but she’d already heard anyway.
I kiss her back, letting my hand rise from her waist to the side of her face. Her lips are soft and warm and a little reckless, and this time I don’t bother holding anything back. I let the kiss deepen, tasting her, memorizing the way she breathes against me, the way her hands slide up and clutch my shoulders like she’s steadying herself in a storm.
I want her. I know she feels it too.
The question is how far I take this … and whether she’s ready for me to.
Chapter 17
Troy
Irest my forehead against hers, letting the kiss linger even after it ends. Her hands don’t leave my shoulders. She holds me there like she’s afraid I’ll slip away if she lets go. That’s not going to happen. Not tonight.
I brush her hair back behind her ear, slide my hand along her jaw. Her skin is warm and alive under my thumb. I lean in, kissing her again, slower, letting her open to me. She does, and the heat between us spikes up and catches.
Her hands go to my chest, gripping the fabric like she’s daring herself to tear the shirt off me, but I don’t give her a chance. My mouth is on hers again, and I taste the wild, the risk, and the want. She grips harder, nails digging in, and I want all of it. I break the kiss, just barely, and she’s breathing heavy, lips parted, her hair a mess from my hands.
“You sure?” I ask, my voice not nearly as steady as I want it to be.
She nods, fierce, and tugs me back in, pulling at my shirt until her hands are under it, on my skin, hot and electric enough to make me lose the rest of my control. I bend and slide my hands under her legs and lift her in one swoop.
I carry her to my bedroom and place her sitting on the side of the bed. Bending over once more, I kiss down her neck, slow and dragging, feeling the small shiver that runs through her when my teeth graze the soft skin below her jaw. Her breath hitches, her hands in my hair, tugging me closer like she wants to fuse us together.
There’s no space between us now, no room for logic or doubt or any of the reasons I told myself to stop myself from wanting her. I want her enough that I can taste it, enough that I don’t care about the rules I set in my head about boundaries or caution or any of the bullshit I’ve used to keep people at arm’s length.
I slide my hands up beneath her shirt, dragging the fabric slowly until my palms cover her ribs. Her skin is hot, her heartbeat hard and fast under my hand. She makes a sound, low in her throat, and it sends a bolt of heat straight through me.
I push the shirt higher, watching the way her eyes widen just a little, the way her breath catches. I want to see all of her, and I want her to know it. I pull it over her head, slow enough to give her time to stop me if she wants, but her arms go up and she shakes her hair loose like she’s shaking off the last of her restraint.
She’s beautiful, so goddamn beautiful that it makes my heart trip over itself. I run my hands up along her sides, thumbs tracing the curve beneath her bra, and let my mouth follow the same path. I kiss along her collarbone, then down, pausing to breathe in her scent, to let her feel how much I want this. She’s trembling, but I want to make her shake more. Want to wind herup until she breaks apart in my hands, and then put her back together again.
Rainey looks up at me, eyes wide, and I know she wants the same. I unhook her bra with one hand and slide it down her arms,. Taking in the curve and flush of her, I watch as her nipples harden in the cool air. I lower my head and take one in my mouth, slow, circling her with my tongue. She hisses out a breath, digging her fingers into my shoulders.
I hold her tighter in my arms, feel her back arch as I close my mouth over her nipple. It’s a gentle pull, then a slow swirl of my tongue, and she lets out a gasp that’s half my name, half a sound I’ve never heard from her before. I want more of it. I want all of it. I want to know what every part of her sounds like when she’s unraveling.
She pulls at my shirt again, more urgent this time, and I move back to strip it over my head. Her hands come up, palms splayed on my chest, then tracing down, learning the lines and ink like she’s adding me to her memory.
There’s a moment, right there, where I see her looking at me not like I’m a project to be fixed, but like I’m something she wants to ruin on purpose. I let her. I want her to.
My hands go to her hips, fingers digging in as I push her back onto the bed. I unbutton her jeans and stand, pulling them off first, and then her panties.
Rainey opens for me, legs falling to either side, and I follow her down, kissing her inner thighs, pressing my tongue just above her knee before working my way up. Every inch of her skin is electric, and I’m greedy for it. I want to taste every part of her. I want to know how she falls apart.
