That familiar stab of regret hits. There’s no way I can let myself kiss Briar. I’ve been dreaming about it for years, and I know that if I kiss her, I’ll never want to stop. It’ll make her feel like she’s mine, and she can’t be mine. She doesn’t want that.
“But I know you said no kissing on the mouth,” she says shyly.
“I did. But that doesn’t mean I can’t kiss you in other places.” I lean forward and press a soft kiss to the side of her neck. I try not to groan at how insanely soft her skin is. Like satin.
When I lean back, I see her eyelids flutter. I start to smile. I think she likes that.
“That’s nice,” she says, her voice breathy. I do it again. I trail soft kisses down her throat.
Her hoodie hangs off her shoulder. I gently kiss her soft skin. “Here?” I say against the delicate slope.
“Yeah, that’s good too,” she rasps.
“Are you turned on?”
Eyes closed, she nods. “Yeah, a little.”
“Good.” I lean back, taking in the gorgeous pink flush coloring her soft skin.
My gaze falls to her chest, and my mouth waters thinking about running my tongue over her nipples.
Not yet. That’s way too much, and I don’t want to overwhelm her.
“Where do you want me to kiss you now?” I ask.
She bites her lip. “My cheek.”
I press my lips softly against her cheek. Then I kiss her other cheek.
I brush her hair out of her face, relishing the dazed look in her eyes and the pretty pink flush climbing up her face. She’s so worked up from kisses on her cheek and neck and shoulder. God, that’s adorable. And sexy.
My cock twitches in my pants. I don’t normally get this turned on from kissing a woman’s cheek, but this is Briar. My crush for the last eight years. Of course I’m turned on.
I’m kissing the hinge of her jaw when her breathing starts to pick up.
“Wait,” she rasps.
I pull away instantly. “Sorry, was that too much?”
She shakes her head. “No, it was nice. I just…” She takes a breath. “Are you going to use your hands on me?”
“If you want me to.”
She starts to nod, but then stops. She looks down at her lap, like she’s unsure. A second later, I put it together: her ex touched her, then forcefully grabbed her. And now she’s nervous about being touched.
“I know you didn’t like it when your ex touched you there, so if you don’t want to, we don’t have to,” I say, hoping that takes the pressure off. “But if you want to try it again, I won’t do it like he did. I’ll be gentle. I’ll make sure it feels good for you, Briar.”
That flicker of doubt in her eyes fades. She bites her lip like she’s still a little unsure. “I know you won’t do what he did,” she says. “It’s just…he made a comment about how I wasn’t as wet as he wanted me to be when he touched me.”
Anger punches through me. That fucking prick. He shoves his hand between her legs with zero buildup, one of the least sexy things he could do, and then he complains about how she wasn’t wet enough.
“That’s not your fault, Briar. He forced himself on you. Of course you’re not going to be wet and turned on.
“I’m more turned on now that I’m with you,” she says, her voice soft and sweet. “But, um, I’m still not very wet, even though I really like the way you’re kissing me. And well, I want you to touch me. I want your hand between my legs. I just want to be more wet first.”
“Yeah, of course. I understand.”
She hesitates. “I don’t have any lube.”
