It’s all I need.
I find the right angle, my forearm braced beside her head, my free hand at her hip, tilting her gently, making sure. My eyes lock onto hers, and as I thrust forward, slow and careful, she exhales a long, shuddering breath against my jaw, her fingers digging into my shoulders.
Fuck! She feels so damn good.
“Okay?” I murmur against her temple.
“Yes,” she breathes. “God, yes!”
I give her a moment, staying still, letting her adjust, my lips moving against her hairline, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. I feel her body soften against mine, the last of the tension easing away, and when her hips shift in a clear, wordless invitation, I move.
The sound she makes is immediate and entirely too loud for her father’s house. I cover her mouth with mine and swallow it, feeling her laugh into the kiss even as her hips rise to meet me.
“Millie.” I pull back just enough to look at her, one eyebrow raised.
“Sorry,” she whispers, not looking remotely sorry. “I wasn’t expecting, um—” She stops, swallows a gulp. “You.”
Something very satisfying moves through me at that. “You’re gonna have to do better than that, Brightside.”
Her eyes go dark at the endearment, and she pulls me back down.
I set a slow, deep rhythm and she moves with me, her hands restless on my back, my shoulders, the back of my neck, like she doesn’t know where to put them and wants them everywhere at once. I drop my mouth to her throat, her collarbone, the soft skin below her ear, and I feel her breathing change with each shift in angle, each deliberate press of my hips against hers. I am paying attention to all of it, filing every reaction away and learning her.
“Right there,” she breathes suddenly, her fingers gripping my shoulder. “Will, right there, don’t—”
“I’ve got you,” I tell her, and I keep exactly where I am, and I donotstop.
She turns her face into my neck, and the sound she makes is muffled but unmistakable. Her hand comes up to press against her own mouth—her eyes are wide, desperate, and apologetic all at once, and I reach up and gently move her hand away.
“Don’t,” I say against her cheek. “I want to hear you.”
“Your dad,” she whispers frantically.
“Yourdad,” I correct, and she dissolves into a breathless, helpless laugh that she buries against my collarbone, her whole body shaking with it. I laugh too, pressing my face into her hair, and then I move again, and the laugh breaks off.
She is gorgeous like this.
I need her to know that.
I pull back enough to look at her, flushed, undone, and bright-eyed, and I cup her face in my hand and make her hold my gaze.
“You have no idea…” I tell her, low and rough, “… how long I’ve wanted this.”
Her breath catches. “Tell me.”
“Twolongfucking years.” I press forward and watch her eyes flutter. “Two years of watching you walk into a room and having to look somewhere else. Two years of talking myself out of every moment we had.” I lean down until my lips brush her ear. “I’m not doing that anymore.”
She makes a sound that definitely isn’t restrained anymore, her nails dragging lightly down my back hard enough to send heat ripping straight through my body. “Will.” My name in her mouth sounds different now.More.
“Yeah,” I murmur.
I shift my angle, and her entire body responds, her back arching, her head pressing back into the pillow, and I keep that angle, build the rhythm, and watch her fall apart underneath me with something that feels very close to adoration. Her hand flies up to cover her mouth again, and this time I let her have it because the sounds she’s trapping behind her palm are the kind that would absolutely carry down the hall, and even I have limits. Her thighs tighten around me, her whole body drawing in and then releasing, a long, shuddering wave that moves through her from the inside out. Her free hand gripping the sheet, her heels pressing into my ass, her hips stuttering against mine as she rides it through.
I stay with her, pressing my mouth to her temple, her cheek, the corner of her jaw, easing her through every last tremor until her hand drops from her mouth and she sags back against the pillows with a wrecked, wondering exhale.
“That’s two,” I say, against her ear.
She turns her head and looks at me with eyes that are glassy and thoroughly satisfied, and says, “Are you keeping count?”
