I let my eyes fall to his chest as his hands slide around my waist, holding me to him.
“Are you really sure? Because I’ll wait. I want you—”
“I’m sure.” I blurt, not giving my brain a moment to have an opinion.
One side of his mouth ticks up into a small smirk, and I like it too much. It’s reassuring and sexy, and what my body needs to begin to relax.
“You won’t drop my ass to the floor, will you?”
“It’s possible.”
Be brave. It’s ok. Just let yourself feel this one thing.
A quiet laugh escapes him, and he moves into me, his fingers gripping me a little tighter. “I think it’s worth the risk.”
My stomach folds in on itself, twisting tight. He lifts a hand to my face, brushing the loose hairs away.
All the air has been sucked out of our small space, and I can’t breathe. For the first time in my life, it’s a good kind of feeling.
The rough pad of his thumb traces over my cheek, and I close my eyes. “Feel my hands.”
It’s a command, and my heart picks up pace again, beating to a new rhythm. Something that feels like the thrill of anticipation mixed with the nerves of the unknown.
His head drops lower, his lips pressing so softly to the center of my forehead, leaving them there. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
His words reach in and grab hold of my heart and squeeze.
I swallow the fear that latches onto those words, not letting a lifetime of anguish rob me of this.
I fist his shirt, never wanting him to go anywhere and to believe, if only for a moment, that somehow, some way, this could be. We could be.
His lips brush over my temple as his hands guide my face to his. His mouth moves over my skin so slowly and carefully, allowing me to take in every detail. The caress of his soft lips. The delicate prickliness of his scruffy jaw. His movements are sure, yet so gentle.
His fingertips push further into my hair, keeping me close and secure. He pauses, his forehead resting against mine. His breath washes over my lips as his patient gaze holds my own.
The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest calms my nerves further.
I bite my lip, afraid, but for the first time, that fear is about what I might never have instead of what I can’t see coming.
I take a chance for myself and press up on my toes, lifting my chin.
He closes the distance, his lips brushing over mine. Once. Twice. Light as a feather. They’re warm and smooth and precise.
He pulls away, leaving only a breath between us, giving me time and space. His eyes search mine, keeping me safely tucked against him.
“Ok?” he whispers, but his confidence remains.
I choke down a mountain of emotions that want to creep up my throat and into my eyes. This man—the only one I trust enough. The only one I’ve ever willingly let have this. He’s so attentive and sure, and it makes me want more.
I nod.
His mouth presses against mine with a bit more force, but still slow and cautious. I wind my hand in his shirt and tug him closer, holding myself to him.
Cole’s head moves one way, and I move the other, delicately finding a rhythm that is our own. His arms slide around me, and his hands spread across my back to surround me with his strength and protectiveness.
I release his shirt, allowing my palms to glide over his sculpted chest to his neck. I link my arms around him, pulling myself closer, wanting to be completely aware of him. His scent. The feel of his strong body pressing into mine. The soft noises that are only his.
His tongue sweeps across my lips, asking permission, and what started out as tentative and terrifying shifts into something new as heat coats my body from the inside out. But it’s not in warning. It’s the exhilarating rush of trust that’s been built between us.
