A small laugh bubbles up in my chest. I reach behind myself with one hand and unhook it for him.
He huffs into my mouth. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Golding.”
“Sorcha.”
The way he says my last name — low, half a growl — does something to my knees. They almost buckle.
I lower my arms. The bra falls. He catches it on the way down and sets it on the nightstand on top of the tights.
He looks at my chest.
Everything in me wants to fold my arms across my body the way I’ve spent two years folding them in front of Chase.Chase looked at me like I was his, and I always covered myself because Iwasn’t. My breath stutters in my throat as I watch Blue’s eyes take me in. My hands twitch at my sides. I don’t cover myself. I don’t let myself do any of the small protective small-girl things I’ve spent two years doing in front of another man.
I let Blue look at me completely as I am.
Because Blue Golding has had my heart and soul since the very beginning. I refuse to be embarrassed of my body in this moment. Because this ––this–– is always what I wanted.
He looks for a long second.
“You are —”
I shake my head. My eyes are burning again. I can’t — I can’t do compliments right now. I can’t take it. I’ll break. I’ll dissolve.
“Melly.”
“Blue, you don’t have to —”
“Melia Caroline Sorcha.”
My heart stops.
“You are so fucking beautiful.”
I tremble. From the soles of my feet to the crown of my head. A shiver so deep it almost takes my knees out. I do not have words. I have nothing but a shiver and electricity shooting downmy spine and a hot tight ache between my hips and a heart that’s pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. The words land right in the center of my body, hitting some old soft bruised place I didn’t know was still bruised, making me ache for him in ways I didn’t know could deepen.
He sees me lose it. He just steps closer and kisses my forehead.
I reach for the waistband of his sweats, desperate for him.He remembers my full name.The sweats come off in one motion. He kicks them away from his feet.
He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
He picks me up — picks me up, with an arm under my back and his other arm under my knees, and the bad shoulder doesn’t flinch, so I wonder if he’s feeling better, or if he just doesn’t care right now, or if adrenaline’s doing the work — and he carries me to his bed and sets me down on his mattress.
The bed dips under me. The comforter’s the color navy. The pillows are soft. The sheets smell like him, and I turn my face into the pillow for one half-second to breathe it in, and my whole body sighs.
He climbs onto the bed. He leans down and puts his mouth on mine. His chest against my chest, skin to skin for the first time, and I gasp into him because the feel of him — warm and solid and real and pressed against the whole length of me — is more than I can hold.
I inhale sharply at the pleasure rolling through my body.
His mouth goes to my collarbone. Then to the top of my shoulder. Then to the side of my neck. My hand grabs the back of his head without me deciding to.
He huffs into my neck.
He kisses lower.
His mouth on the line of my throat.
