“Shepherd…” she breathes my name like a question.
I don’t answer with words because fuck it, I can’t. Instead, I carefully take her bowl and place it next to mine on the coffee table. My hand returns to her face, my thumb tracing the curve of her cheek. I can feel her pulse racing beneath my fingers, matching the rapid tempo of my own.
“I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time,” I murmur, leaning in until our lips are a breath apart.
“You have?” she asks, her eyes fluttering closed.
“Mhmm. Ever since I saw you standing on my porch in my T-shirt that day your shower wasn’t working.”
“You could’ve done it then, you know.”
I swallow back my guilt. “I know. Trust me I’ve been reliving that moment in my head over and over. So, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d really like a do-over.”
She makes a sound that’s half laugh, half surrender, and I’m lost. I crush my mouth against hers, devouring her, all restraint incinerated. Her lips part beneath mine and the taste of mint chocolate explodes on my tongue. My fingers dig into her hair, gripping hard enough to make her gasp as I pull her against me.
She responds immediately, her body melting against mine, her hands grasping my shoulders like she’s afraid I might disappear. I angle my head, deepening the kiss, and she makes that sound again—half moan, half sigh—that sends heat spiraling straight to my cock.
I’ve kissed women before. Women who knew what they were doing. But Christ, this is different. Nothing has ever felt like this. Like Sutton’s mouth on mine was always meant to be there, driving me out of my fucking mind.
Her hands slide up my chest, fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt, tugging me closer. I can feel her pulse, rapid and strong, against my palm as I cup her face and neck. When she makes that little sound again—that half-moan that’s driving me insane—I lose what’s left of my restraint. My arm circles her waist, lifting her effortlessly until she’s straddling my lap, her thighs bracketing mine.
“Is this okay?” I breathe against her mouth, needing to hear her say it.
“Yes,” she whispers, her voice husky and her pupils blown wide. “God, yes.”
She grinds down, and I nearly black out as she connects with my cock, already granite-hard and throbbing. My hands find her hips, guiding her into a slow, torturous rhythm that has us both breathing harder. She’s warm and perfect in my arms,her body responding to my touch like we’ve done this a thousand times before.
I trail kisses down her throat, tasting the salt of her skin. Her head falls back, exposing the elegant column of her throat to my hungry mouth. I can’t get enough of her. Her taste, her scent, the feel of her body against mine.
It’s fucking perfection.
“Shepherd,” she gasps as my teeth graze her collarbone, my name in her mouth like a prayer I’ve waited years to hear answered. Her hands slide into my hair, tugging with just enough force to send sparks down my spine, lighting up every goddamn nerve ending.
I slip my hands under the hem of her shirt, fingers skimming the impossibly soft skin of her lower back. Warm satin over taut muscle. She shivers against me, her hips grinding down in a way that makes me see stars. Christ, I’ve imagined this moment more times than I can count, but fantasy pales against the reality of Sutton in my arms, against my body.
My thumbs brush the undersides of her breasts, and she makes that sound again. The one that’s going to haunt my dreams for weeks…maybe years. I capture her mouth once more, swallowing her sounds as my hands move higher, cupping the perfect weight of her through the thin, lace-edged fabric of her bra. The heat of her burns through the delicate material.
“Is this still okay?” I murmur against her lips, needing to hear her consent again, needing to know she wants this as much as I do. I’ve never needed anyone’s approval like this before, like my next breath depends on her saying yes.
“Yes,” she breathes, arching into my touch, her back forming a perfect curve.
Her fingers find the hem of my shirt, tugging upward. “Take this off,” she commands, her voice breathy and urgent.
I obey without hesitation, pulling my shirt over my headand tossing it aside. Her eyes darken as she takes in my bare chest, her hands immediately exploring the planes and ridges like she’s mapping territory. When her fingertips brush across my nipples, I can’t stop the groan that escapes me, raw and unfiltered.
“Motherfucker…”
“You like that?” she whispers, a newfound confidence in her voice that makes my blood run hotter.
“I like everything you do,” I admit, watching her face as her palms slide down my stomach.
She leans forward, pressing her lips to my collarbone, then my chest. Each kiss leaves a burning trail on my skin. I’m achingly hard now, straining against my sweatpants, and when she shifts her weight again, the friction nearly undoes me.
“Your turn,” I murmur, tugging gently at her shirt. “May I?”
She nods, lifting her arms as I slowly pull the fabric up and over her head. My breath catches at the sight of her—soft curves encased in simple black lace.
“Beautiful,” I whisper, my fingers tracing the delicate strap of her bra. Her skin is warm beneath my touch, goosebumps rising in the wake of my fingertips. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”
