“What do you want?”
Her throat works.
Then she answers, soft but certain.
“You.”
That word goes through me like a live wire.
I kiss her again, deeper this time, and she comes with me willingly, pressing into my chest, into my hands, into everything I’ve been holding back.
My palm glides down her back, slow and steady, learning the shape of her. She shivers, and I force myself to keep this measured, gentle, even though everything in me is burning hot and fast.
This isn’t about taking.
This is about showing her.
Showing her that she’s safe.
That she gets to choose every second of this.
That no one is taking anything from her ever again.
I trail my mouth along her cheek, her jaw, the sensitive spot just below her ear.
She gasps quietly and her fingers tighten in my hair.
“Ace…”
“I’ve got you,” I murmur against her skin.
Her head tips back slightly.
Trusting me.
And that undoes me more than anything else tonight.
I press another kiss to her throat, then another, while my hand stays steady at her waist, grounding her, never pushing, never demanding.
She touches my face then, fingertips brushing my jaw like she’s memorizing me too.
“You’re so careful with me,” she whispers.
I lift my head and look at her.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
The answer comes easy.
“Because you deserve careful.”
Her eyes shine at that. Not with fear. Not with panic.
With feeling.
Too much of it.
