Page 37 of Only Be Mine

His hands drifted over my shoulders, down my arms, my back, leaving heat in their wake. Everywhere he touched, I felt more awake, more here.

I slid my fingers into his hair, pulling him closer, needing him nearer, and he made a quiet sound against my lips that sent a shiver through me.

This time, when he touched me, it wasn’t hesitant or unsure. It was careful, like he was memorizing me, every curve, every breath. As if this moment mattered as much to him as it did to me.

His fingers slid to the hem of my top, brushing my stomach as he lifted it slowly over my head. The cool air made me shiver… or maybe it was the way his gaze lingered on me afterward.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low.

He leaned in, his mouth warm against my skin, kissing me through the thin lace of my bra. I sucked in a breath as his hand moved around my back, fingers finding the clasp. He paused, looking up at me, asking without words.

I nodded.

With a soft flick of his fingers, the bra fell away, and his hands were on me, warm and sure, holding me like something precious. His mouth followed, slow and worshipful, until I was pressing closer without even realizing it.

I slid my hands over his shoulders, down the hard lines of his back, tugging at his shirt until he helped me pull it away. Our skin met, and the sensation of him, solid and hot and real, made my knees go weak.

His kisses drifted from my lips to my neck, my collarbone, lower… until his fingers found the waistband of my jeans. Again, that silent question.

“Yes,” I whispered. “Please.”

He eased them down my legs, the loss of fabric replaced by the heat of his body. My hands were already fumbling at his, undoing buttons, desperate to feel more of him.

John stilled me gently, his eyes dark, his breath uneven. “Are you sure?”

I didn’t hesitate. “I want you.”

That was all it took.

He pulled me close again, kissing me like there was nowhere else in the world he wanted to be. When he finally moved between my legs, every inch of me felt awake, tuned only to him.

When we came together, it was slow, deep and careful and achingly intimate. I wrapped my legs around him, clinging to his back, needing him closer as the rhythm between us built.

“John…” My voice broke as sensation rolled through me, too big to hold.

He moved with me, breathing my name like a prayer, until everything shattered into heat and light and feeling, and I was lost in him completely.

Afterward, John pressed a kiss to my hair, his arms still wrapped around me, like he wasn’t ready to let go either.

I stayed curled against him, my cheek pressed to his chest, listening to the steady, grounding thud of his heart. It felt surreal that something so quiet could come after something that had shaken me so completely.

My body still hummed, warm and loose and heavy in the best way, but it was the way he held me that made my throat tighten - one arm firm around my back, the other resting at my waist like he was anchoring me there. Like he wasn’t going anywhere.

I traced slow, absent lines over his skin, my fingers drifting over the familiar dip of his collarbone until they found the small birthmark.

I’d always thought it looked like Africa.

I let my thumb rest there for a moment, grounding myself in something real, something unmistakably him, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Not just the closeness, the heat… but the way it had felt like more than that. Like something had shifted, clicked into place.

“Hey,” he murmured softly, his fingers brushing my hair back from my face.

I looked up at him, suddenly overwhelmed by how open his expression was. No walls. No distance. Just John.

“That was…” I swallowed, searching for the right word.

He smiled, slow and tender. “Yeah.”

I let out a shaky breath and tucked myself back against him, feeling strangely fragile and safe all at once. Whatever this was between us, whatever line we’d crossed, there was no pretending it hadn’t happened now.