"Then don't try."
I pulled her sweater over her head and let it fall wherever it landed. She was beautiful in the dim light filtering through the chintz curtains, all curves and confidence despite the vulnerability in her eyes.
"You're staring," she said.
"Can't help it." I traced a line down her arm. "You're gorgeous."
"Flatterer."
"Truth-teller." I kissed her neck, felt her pulse jump under my lips. "You don't know how long I've wanted this. Wanted you."
"Six months?"
"Longer." I kissed lower, along her collarbone. "Since the first time I saw you at that fundraiser, arguing with the venue manager about kitchen access. You were magnificent."
She laughed, breathless. "I was furious."
"Same thing." I found the clasp of her bra and opened it, my hands shaking as badly as hers had been. "You get this look when you're angry. Like you could take on the world and win."
"I feel like that around you," she admitted. "Like I could do anything."
I pulled back to look at her. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." She pushed at my jeans, impatient now. "Now stop talking and show me what else you remember from last night."
"Everything," I promised. "I remember everything."
And I did. I remembered the sounds she made when I touched her, how she arched into me, the exact pressure and rhythm that made her gasp my name. I remembered all of it, and I intended to prove it hadn't been a one-off.
I eased her back onto the bed, spreading her out beneath me. Her bra slipped free, and my lips closed over a nipple, sucking hard enough to make her breath hitch. She arched into me, nails biting at my shoulders.
"Jesus, you feel good," I muttered against her skin, then kissed lower, tracing the curve of her stomach. She tasted of salt, familiar and brand new all at once.
Her thighs parted when I nudged them, and I settled between them like I'd been waiting my whole damn life. My fingers slid over her first, teasing, until she was wet and restless beneath me. The little sounds she made went straight to my cock, straining against denim.
"Don't make me beg," she warned, but her voice was already breaking.
I grinned up at her. "Not yet."
I pushed two fingers inside her, slowly at first, savoring the way she clenched around me. Her head fell back, a low moan spilling out as I curled my fingers. I remembered how she'd come apart last night, how she'd shouted when I did exactly this. I gave her the same rhythm now, relentless, until she was rocking against my hand, chasing the release.
When she shattered, it was with my name on her lips, raw and unguarded. I watched it all, greedy for the sight.
"Beautiful," I rasped, then staggered to my feet to get rid of my jeans. My cock sprang free, aching, and I rolled the condom on with fingers that shook more than I wanted to admit.
Then the doubts were gone, and I slotted myself between her legs. "Are you ready for me?"
Her answer was to lift her hips, rubbing herself against the head of my cock. "Been ready since the day I met you."
That undid me. I pushed into her in one long stroke, groaning as her heat closed tight around me. She gasped, clutching my arms, her legs wrapping high around my waist.
"Fuck, you're perfect," I ground out, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in harder. She sucked in a sharp breath, and then she matched me, moving with me, her body opening to every thrust.
I set a steady rhythm, slow enough to savor, hard enough to make her moan. Every flex of her around me, every desperate kiss, felt like more than sex. It was her letting me in, piece by piece.
When I felt her tighten again, close to breaking, I buried my face in her neck, teeth scraping her skin. "Come with me," I whispered, thrusting harder, deeper. "I want to feel you."
She cried out as her body clenched around mine, pulling me under. I went with a groan, holding her tight while the world disintegrated, both of us slick with sweat, hearts hammering in sync.
