It was great, but I kind of thought we were just getting started.
Sitting up, I ask. “What are you doing?”
“I told you this wasn’t about sex.” He shrugs.
My heart sinks. I didn’t think he meant he didn’t want to. I just thought he was trying to be respectful. Now I feel silly.
“Why are you making that face?” he asks.
“I uh… I think I misunderstood. I…” I half laugh to keep from crying. “I thought you were just saying we didn’t have to if I wasn’t ready. Not that you didn’t want to.”
His eyes narrow, and he takes my hand. I’m about to shut down when he places it over his sweatpants and lifts a brow. My hand wraps around his very hard cock, and I didn’t know it was even possible for my heart to pound harder, but it does.
“I fucking want to. I just don’t want to screw this up. I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret tomorrow. Butmake no mistake, if I knew for sure you were ready, I’d have buried this in you ten minutes ago.”
I stare at him with wide eyes, my hand still on his dick. His words have me feeling like he didn’t just get me off two minutes ago.
Shifting onto my knees, I lift my chin and take a deep breath. “I won’t regret it.”
“Ash—”
My grip tightens, and I rub my hand over him through the fabric. “I won’t. I’m not caught in the moment. I’m not even a little unsure. I want this.” My words catch in my throat. “Please?—”
Before I can finish my thought, he flips me onto my back again, kicking off his pants and tearing my panties off. His nostrils flare, and he stops for a moment. “If you change your mind, we’ll stop.”
“I won’t change my mind.”
He grabs my thigh, hiking it up before sinking into me. His movements are slow, letting me adjust an inch or so at a time, but it still stings a little.
I can see the question even before it leaves his lips, so I nod. “I’m okay.”
He moves in a slow, gentle rhythm, staring down at me and bracing himself on his forearms above my head. His lips meet my neck, and I writhe under him, balling my fists in his plaid sheets.
A noise I don’t think I’ve ever made before leaves my throat. It’s part groan, part purr, part whimper—all feral. His eyes light. “You look so pretty when you do that.”
There he goes again, calling me pretty. And I have to say, it has just as fierce of an effect the second time. Placing a hand on the back of his head, I bring his mouth down to mine. This time, I consume him.
I roll my hips trying to get closer—to get more—and lock my legs around him, my heels digging into his ass.
His lids grow heavy, and a crease appears between his eyes as he groans,“Fuck.”
I love that face.
He’s always so in control. Every expression and word is deliberate and thought out. But not right now. This is Gabriel unraveled. Just like he was last night when he kissed me.
“You’re so fucking perfect, baby,” he mutters, flipping us over so I’m on top of him again. He doesn’t wait for me to ask before he says, “You can’t do it wrong. Just move.”
His hands guide my hips, and any thoughts I was having disappear at the feeling. My head falls back.
He sits up, sliding in the bed until his back is against the wall and tangling his fingers into my hair before guiding my face to his.
As I move, his eyes burn into me, and he says, “Just like that. You’re doing so well.”
My forehead falls to his as his hands run over my skin under the shirt. Then he yanks it over my head, tossing it to the floor. He rests his palms on my hips before sliding them up my body in an excruciatingly slow trail to my ribs. His thumbs brush the edge of my breasts, and I quicken my pace. The moment they graze my nipples, I shudder.
He’s watching me so closely, but I don’t feel afraid. I’m not questioning what he’s thinking or what he’s feeling. I can almost see every thought as it moves across his eyes.
Instead, I feel beautiful. I’m the one doing this to him. Just me.
