She tilts her face up, eyes still heavy with sleep, hair loose around her shoulders. I lean down and kiss her. It’s meant to be quick.
It isn’t.
Her hand slides to the back of my neck, holding me there, and something in the kiss changes.
I let it. I always do.
When I pull back, she’s more awake. “Stay a little longer.”
The right answer would be no. “Okay, babe. A little longer.”
She pulls me back down to her. Her mouth finds mine again, her hand coming up to my jaw and holding me there. She kisses me like she’s trying to keep me from leaving.
If I’m honest, it works.
I move closer as she turns fully into me, erasing the last of the space between us. The kiss deepens naturally, settling into a familiar rhythm. Her breathing shifts, and my hand slides into her hair.
She makes a soft sound against my mouth, and it catches somewhere deep inside my chest.
I kiss her harder, and she meets me with the same intensity, her fingers tightening at the back of my neck.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing heavier.
The morning light doesn’t matter.
Where we are doesn’t matter.
What the world calls us doesn’t matter.
Charlotte pushes herself up and reaches between us, her fingers finding the waistband of my shorts. I lift my hips, and she works them down before I kick them the rest of the way off. A second later, she slips out of her own underwear just as easily, letting them fall somewhere beside the bed.
She swings a leg over and settles astride me. My hands find her thighs automatically as I look up at her.
She doesn’t reach for me. Instead, she stays exactly where she is, pressed against me, the warmth of her body making it impossible to think about anything else.
She shifts her hips once, slow and deliberate. The reaction escapes me before I can stop it.
She does it again, her eyes never leaving my face.
“Char—”
“Mmm.”
She does it again, knowing exactly what it does to me.
This is how she gets when she’s in the mood to torment me—drawing it out, wearing away my patience one careful second at a time.
Another slow roll of her hips pulls a breath from me.
“You’re doing that on purpose.”
“Obviously.”
Not a hint of guilt.
Then she does it again.
I let her.
