Page 106 of Worth the Shot

Not meant to start anything.

It’s soft. Intentional. Almost reverent.

Like she’s not just kissing the scar, she’s kissing what I went through. Thanking the universe that I’m safe now.

I exhale shakily, my hand tightening slightly around hers as she presses another gentle kiss just beside it, her breath warm against my skin, and I swear I feel it all the way down to my chest.

“You don’t have to be careful with me,” I murmur, my voice rough, quieter than I expect it to be.

But she doesn’t pull away.

If anything, she stays right there, close enough that I can feel every breath she takes, her forehead brushing lightly against mine as her fingers curl just a little tighter in my shirt.

“I’m not,” she whispers. And somehow…that’s worse. Because the way she says it? It doesn’t feel like caution. It feels like she means it.

So I take her face in both my hands and kiss her like I’m on fire and she’s the only thing that can put it out. It’s hungry and desperate and emotions bleeding everywhere.

Her fingers are in my hair, tugging gently and scraping like she’s claiming me as hers. My hands slide up and down her back, relearning the map of her body, until they find her ass and I scoop her up without thinking. She gasps, then laughs into my mouth, wrapping her legs around me and squeezing like she’s afraid of the space between us. The kiss turns messy, weeks of wanting, missing, spiraling—all of it crashing together at once.

God, I need this woman so badly it hurts.

I press her against the wall, firm enough to make a point, careful enough not to hurt her. Just enough to say you’re here, you’re mine, I’ve got you. Her legs slide down, and I cage her in, both arms braced against the wall on either side of her, my body close enough that she can feel how much I want her. She tilts her head, offering me her neck like a trust fall, and my mouth lands just beneath her ear before I trail kisses down the side of her throat.

She lets out a soft, wrecked moan and it hits me straight in the chest.

I kiss her harder, deeper, more possessive, trying to make up for every second I didn’t have her. My knee slips between her legs and she rocks into it like she needs it as much as I do.

“Brennan,” she whispers.

The way she says my name is raw and breathless, branding itself into me and I know I’ll hear it in my dreams for the rest of my life.

“Take me to your bed. Now.”

I don’t hesitate. I never will again.

I lift her up, kissing her the whole way, barely registering the room as we move. I go to grab a condom from the drawer without looking because I don’t want to break the moment searching for anything, but she stops me.

“Don’t.” She says it like a command as she grips my wrist, eyes glassy and drunk with lust and love. “I track my cycles, I’m not ovulating,” she says, breath hitching like she can’t catch it. “I know that’s a lot of trust to put in me but I just wanna feel you, nothing in between us.” She’s practically begging, and I’m pretty sure I’m already fucking finished by the time I throw the wrapped condom back in the drawer. She pulls me down onto her before I can even close it, our mouths colliding again, sloppy and starving and I’m up so high right now I can’t even feel the dull ache in my face anymore. My hand finds the hem of her lace thong beneath her sweats, teasing, testing, and she shivers instantly. Goosebumps race across her skin like my touch alone could cure everything that’s ever been broken inside of her.

“Bren—ugh. Brennan, I need you,” she chokes out. “Please.”

That’s it. That word. Please.

I’ve waited long enough.

I don’t take my time anymore. I tear her pants off in one motion, the thong coming with them. She gasps as my thumb circles her clit and she arches into the touch, her back lifting off the bed. One finger slips inside her, then another, and she cries out when my thumb returns, firmer this time, more certain. She’s so wet it nearly undoes me.

I need to taste her. Need it like a fucking craving.

I spread her legs wider and trail kisses down her chest, over her stomach, slow and reverent, like I’m memorizing her all over again. My lips find her inner thighs, grazing closer and closer until my mouth hovers, teasing her as I breathe warm air into the inch of space that separates me from her pussy. She shudders, grabbing the back of my head and guides my mouth right into her.

I go willingly.

My tongue learns her like it was always meant to be here, working overtime, swirling, flicking and sucking softly as she moans. Her hands fist in my hair, pulling hard as her hips lift to meet me, chasing every touch. One of my hands grips her thigh, holding her open for me, while the other slides up her body, palming her breast as my thumb brushes over the hard peak of her nipple. I sink my fingers back into her warmth, moving in rhythm with my tongue as I apply just enough pressure to make her cry out. Her whole body arches off the bed, hips jolting so hard it nearly knocks me loose and I grin against her wet heat before pulling her right back to the edge.

She’s close, I can feel it, and I pull away even though every instinct screams to stay. I want to make sure she really falls apart. She protests and it’s breathless, wrecked in a way that makes my cock harder, but I’m already moving back over her. I drop more weight onto her than I mean to and she groans, then laughs, and we both breathe for half a second like this is real. None of it feels fragile anymore.

“Oops,” I murmur, kissing her jaw, then her mouth.