Page 132 of Burning For You

She kissed him once more, a little longer this time, her hands fisting lightly in his shirt. Not desperate, just wanting. Wanting him. Wanting this moment.

He smiled against her mouth, his thumb tracing her jaw. “Come on,” he whispered. “Let’s shut everything else out. I can make you forget.”

He led her toward the bedroom, his fingers laced with hers, the apartment falling quiet behind them. No phones. No headlines. No fires or fear of tomorrow pressing in.

Just the two of them.

For tonight, that was enough.

He kicked the door shut with his foot. There was no need to. They were private enough, but it was as if he knew that one more layer would give them what they needed.

His hands framed her face, his lips landing on hers, brushing back and forth. “Are we good?”

“We’re good,” she whispered. “Sometimes I think you’re the only good in my life right now. And maybe I don’t show it enough. Maybe I don’t say it either.”

“Shh,” he said. “Don’t talk about it. That’s not shutting it off.”

She silently shook her head and let him just take over.

He knew what he was doing.

Never once had he disappointed her and she didn’t think tonight would be any different.

His mouth opened, hers followed, his tongue slipping in, tasting her, the sweetness of the apple pie they’d eaten, the rich vanilla of the ice cream next to it.

It was like coming home.

Being with Ash, being here with him, like this. It was home. Her home now.

It was the only home she’d ever need.

And maybe it was time to stop holding back.

To stop fighting what she’d been feeling for so long and let him know.

But when his hands slid under the bottom of her shirt, lifting it up and over her head slowly, those thoughts disappeared.

For now, his heat, his touch, his presence. That was what she needed more of.

Those strong fingers of his slid up her back, found the clasp of her bra, undid it and dragged it off her body so slow and sure, that it amazed her someone with his level of confidence wanted to be with her.

His mouth never left hers, the weight of his body pressing her back so that her feet moved until the back of her knees hit the bed and she went down on it, his body covering hers, then sliding until his mouth found her nipple.

Hard, puckered, just waiting for him to latch on and take her to the place she’d asked him to.

Her back arched into him, wanting more contact, more... anything.

His fingers found hers, threaded them together and held them at her sides.

“I want to touch you.”

“You can when I’m ready to let you.” Then he went right back to what he was doing.

Licking, sucking, pulling her taut skin in, stabbing at it with the tip of his tongue.

Making her body sing and feel alive.

Her hips were lifting, grinding against him. Trying to find some kind of relief that he just didn’t want her to have.