“I feel that too.”
His agreement spurs me on, and I drop my hands to his shoulders, shifting my hips in a small figure eight on his lap.
“Holly,” he groans, sliding his hands to my hips.
My name in that tone is music to my ears, and I smile at him and shift my hips again.
“We are not having sex here on the couch,” he says firmly.
Before I can question him, he stands, cupping my butt in his hands and taking me with him. I help him out by wrapping my legs around his waist and slipping my arms around his neck, a giddy giggle escaping as he carries me down a dark hallway to his room.
I’m sure in another scenario, he would have stopped to flip on the lights, but I’m glad he’s still gripping my butt. Glad he’skissing me again. I kiss him back, letting my body say what my words failed to express properly, all of me aching for all of him.
He sets me on his bed carefully, then kneels between my legs, resting his hands on my thighs and gazing up at me with reverence.
“You sure about this?”
I nod, smiling. “I’ve never been more sure in my life.”
He gives me one of his handsome smiles, and I feel even lighter inside. Honestly, if it weren’t for his touch grounding me, I’d be floating on air. At least, that’s how it feels right now.
“Protection?” he asks, pragmatic as ever.
His query gives me pause, though. Do I want to use protection with him? I hadn’t really considered that. I don’t do allopathic birth control, I’m aligned with the moons and—
“Are you allergic to latex?”
His question takes me out of consideration about where in my cycle I am. It’s not like I’ve had to track it for fertility or anything, but maybe I should start. Still, I have a red moon cycle, and just started waning, so I should be good.
In theory.
Goddess, I am not ready for babies.
“Holly?”
The concern in Jake’s voice has me snapping my attention to him. He gazes up at me with those dark eyes, and I melt all over again at the caution I see there. The obvious care.
“Sorry,” I say, meaning it. “I was just thinking about where I am in my cycle. I bleed with the full moon.”
He nods,his concern shifting to a more pensive look. “So, you’re in your follicular phase right now.”
The blasé way he just threw that out there, like it’s no big deal to talk about a woman’s cycle—not to mention his awareness of the moon’s phases—makes me want him even more. I rest my hands on top of his, smiling as I nod.
He gives me a soft smile. “I’d feel more comfortable using protection this first time. As much as I’d like to feel you bare—”
“We have time,” I repeat his words from earlier back to him, feeling the depth of them. The meaning. “And I don’t have any allergies.”
While I’d rather experience the fullness of him too, I see the wisdom in his decision. The care. And that he’s alluding to more than one encounter with me makes me so happy I grin.
He turns his hands so that they clasp mine, and he lifts one to his lips.
“So damn beautiful,” he murmurs before kissing my other hand.
I melt at his praise and gently tug his hands closer to me. He moves smoothly, following my subtle, unspoken request and raising up from his kneeling position to kiss me properly.
Soon, I’m under him, his powerful body caging mine as we make out again, and I love every second. Every ounce of pressure, every glide of his tongue, the brush of his soft beard against the tender skin of my face. A heady sensation floats through my body, even as I’m fully grounded in the moment.
Here with Jake.
