“You still good?” he asks, voice low.
“Yes,” I breathe. “Very.”
His mouth trails along my jaw, down my neck, unhurried. Every touch feels intentional, grounding, like he’s reminding himself—and me—that this is real. That we’re choosing each other in this moment, not reacting to anything else.
“I don’t take this lightly,” he says against my skin. “I will never treat you like you mean less than everything.”
“I know,” I whisper, fingers threading into his hair. “That’s why I fell in love with you.”
The words hit him hard. I feel it in the way his breath stutters, in the way his grip tightens briefly before easing again. He lifts his head, eyes locked on mine. “Say it again.”
I cup his cheeks. “I love you, Charlie Henderson.”
His forehead leans against mine, terror temporarily overriding lust. “I can’t lose you too.”
My chest warms, something deep and steady settling there. “I’m not going anywhere,” I vow.
“Come with me,” he murmurs.
He takes my hand, leading me down the hall, the house is dim and quiet around us. The door to his bedroom closes softly behind us, and the world narrows to the two of us—steady, certain, chosen. His mouth claims mine again, and this time there’s no holding back—only connection, only heat, only the slow unraveling of everything we’ve both been bracing against. When he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against mine, breath warm, voice hushed.
I know exactly what’s coming next. Charlie and I have physically connected numerous times since we started dating.
He hauls me to him so I’m on the very tippy toes of my feet. He touches his lips against my forehead, then down each cheek. My nose, my chin. Then, gently over my lips. Each brush causes the blood to beat faster in my veins.
Lips parting, I moan, “Charlie, kiss me.”
He does. At first, it’s like fire flickering. Then, I wrench my mouth from his. “Too many clothes.”
“Right,” he mutters. With one arm, he rips off his henley showing off his toned body that still sports a six-pack.
My mouth waters even as I wrench my sweater over my head. I’m too distracted by the feeling of his skin on mine.
He drags his mouth down the side of my neck leaving a chill in their wake.
Charlie fumbles with the clasp of my bra. Shortly after, that’s been discarded on the floor, he’s spinning me around so fast I feel like I’m falling.
No, I am actually falling. I land in the middle of his enormous bed leaving his hands free to roam over my bare skin. His fingertips graze over my shoulders, down my arms, even over my fingertips before making their way up the center of my torso so they cup my breasts.
At that point, I slide my fingers into his close cropped hair and pull his head toward my bare chest. He takes the prompting with no resistance. His lips close over a turgid nipple where he begins a slow suck intermingled with languid strokes of his tongue.
I writhe, his every movement sparking the kind of fire I’ve never experienced with a lover before. One I know I’ll never experience again in my life.
After all, real love is the difference between good sex and the kind that burns the world down. With Charlie, all he has to do is hold my hand and I feel like there’s kindling catching. With what he’s doing to my body right now, I’m already primed for a three alarm blaze.
Charlie stands and yanks off my ankle boots and leggings, taking my panties with them. Now, I’m laid out before him—stretch marks and all. But with him, I don’t care. He makes me feel like I was created for his hands, his mind.
His heart.
He nuzzles the space where the organ that beats just for him rests between my breasts even as I move my hands to the waistband of his jeans where I fumble with the heavy belt buckle. Standing to his full height, he makes quick work of it.
The lowering of his zipper causes goose bumps to rise up on my skin. I open my arms in welcome and he falls into them. “I can take my boots off,” he offers.
“I don’t want to wait that long.” And it’s the truth. I’m in such a hurry to have him become one with me, I don’t care if he’s barefoot or wearing bunny slippers. I need to feel him connected to me.
I want to hear Charlie tell me he loves me while his body is sliding in and out of mine.
As if he can hear my thoughts, he reaches down and drags the head of his cock up and over my clit before dragging it back down to my entrance. Over and over, taunting, teasing. Getting himself wet, getting me drenched. Fortunately, I’m on the shot to regulate my hormones and we’re each tested regularly, so we’ve dispensed with protection.
