His brow furrows; clearly he has no idea what I’m talking about. He looks down me and his eyes stop on the loose, puckered skin folding together just above my pants.
He runs a finger over it. “Surgery?” he asks.
“C-section. With Rosie.”
His expression is so gentle, and he leans down and presses his lips against the hollow of my hip, which causes my eyelids to flutter. “I would never wish that away.”
I can feel tears start to form behind my eyes.This is a man who sees my flaws, my imperfections—and there are so many of them, inside and out—but he sees me as so much more than that. He wants me anyway, as I am.
“You’re beautiful, Becks,” he says, and I close my eyes against how that threatens to make those tears come even closer to the surface.
You make me feel beautiful,” Becca says.
It breaks my heart that she doesn’t feel that way all the time, and I’m guessing this, too, is because of Rob.
I’m not going to bring him up tonight. In fact, I’m going to make sure every thought of him is a million miles away. I kiss her skin just above the hem of her pants and then slip my fingers down beneath the waistband. “Mmm,” Becca says, and she lies back on the bed again, which I take for an invitation to slide her yoga pants off, revealing the matching lacy underwear beneath.
“Oh my god,” I say. “You are so sexy.” She always has been, but the fact that she wore this for me—she was wearing more practical underwear when I helped her with her zipper, so I’m guessing she brought these for the DallianceTower—makes her even more so.
Becca meets my eyes, and there’s a different kind of tension between us now, taut like a rope with no slack in it.
I don’t look away from her eyes as I hook my thumbs in the stretchy lace of her underwear and pull them down, as I lift her knee up over my shoulder and turn slightly, kissing the soft skin on the inside of her thigh. Her eyes close and her head falls back, her mouth parting, and watching her respond to me like that undoes me completely.
I kiss my way up her thigh slowly, savoring every inch. “Would you really have let me go down on you in the carriage?” I ask against her skin.
“Mmm,” she says. “Yes.”
“You would have had to be quieter there,” I say, reaching the top of her thigh and nibbling it gently.
“I should probably be a little bit quiet here,” Becca says, then gasps as I run my tongue up her outer lip.
She should—it’s not like I think it’s a good idea for us to be heard from the hallway. But—“Not too quiet,” I say. “I want to hear you.” I lift her other knee over my other shoulder and then run my tongue back down and up the other side.
She groans, and it’s exactly as delicious as I imagined.
Idon’t think Nate needs to worry—I don’t think I could keep him from hearing me if I tried.
His tongue traces me up and down, up and down, heat lancing through me with each motion, the low pulsing becoming its own heartbeat.The thought that in the carriage we were having the same fantasies at the same time drives me wild, makes the ache deeper. I groan, any words I could say caught in my throat.
Except this one: “Nate.”
“Becks,” he says, and even just that, the way he says that, makes me shudder.
And then he lowers his mouth to me and begins in earnest. His lips, his tongue, his breath, the faintest brush of his teeth—all of it working together, sending waves and waves of pleasure through me, making my body feel like it’s pulling together with need and desire and fire. I’m definitely not being too quiet—I’m moaning and gasping and shifting even closer to him, wanting him tighter against me.
His hands are under my ass, massaging me there as he works me with his mouth, and I’m shaking and arching and whimpering. Saying his name again, pleading and pleading as the heat rises higher and higher.
He’s working me faster, harder, and my fingers are in his hair, tangled in those dark, gorgeous curls he keeps tied back, and I hope I’m not pulling too hard, I hope I’m not hurting him, but I can’t let go, I can’t ever let him go—
I cry out as my whole body comes deliriously apart in blinding ecstasy like I’ve never felt before, never in my whole life. I’m shuddering and shaking, and he pulls me through it until I fall back on the bed, my muscles so weak they might as well have dissolved.
He’s grinning at me. “I wish I’d done that in the carriage.”
Oh my god, yes. “Me too. I never even would have met the prince.”
Becca says that like it’s a good thing, which makes me smile. She spreads her legs and I climb up over her, lying on the bed on top of her.
First times are generally not my favorite—I prefer the comfort of knowing a person to the novelty of discovery. Maybe it’s all the time I spent wishing and wanting this, but there’s no awkwardness here, just a feeling of belonging, like this is exactly how things are meant to be.
