“What part?”
She swallows.
“The sex part.”
She says it like it’s a confession.
Like she expects me to agree.Or to pull back.
That’s when something shifts inside me.
Not rage.
Not exactly.
More like resolve.
I lean down until our foreheads almost touch.
“Look at me, Kelly.”
She hesitates, then does.
Those blue eyes—vulnerable and brave all at once.
“I want you to take every single word that asshole ever said to you,” I tell her slowly, deliberately, “and throw it the hell away.”
Her throat works.
“I want you to kiss me,” I continue, voice roughening.“Kiss me and let me show you exactly how wrong he was.”
“J.T., what if I disappoint?—”
I press my thumb gently over her lips.
“Shhh.That’s impossible, Honey.”
My voice drops, intimate and steady.
“You being here.You wanting me.That’s enough.Just be here with me.That’s it.”
I feel her body soften under mine.
More than submission.This is trust.
And my heart thuds at the prospect.
Her legs loosen, dropping down, her hands slide up my sides, my back, all the way to my shoulders, and she leans up.
Then she kisses me.
Finally.
And she isn’t shy.
Not uncertain.
She’s hungry.
