Page 315 of A Vicious Love

“You’re allowed to look,” I said.

She pressed her lips together. “I am looking.”

“Yes, baby. You are.”

Her cheeks went hotter.

When I climbed back onto the bed, she shifted toward me as if pulled. Her hand reached first, hesitant, then touched my abdomen. No fear in the touch this time. Curiosity, yes. Nerves. Want. She traced the line of muscle below my ribs, then lower, stopping when my stomach tightened under her hand.

I covered her hand with mine and guided it down.

Her fingers brushed me again, and my breath left through my nose. I let her explore only for a second before catching her wrist and bringing it to my mouth. If she kept touching me with that careful reverence, I was going to forget every plan I had made for her body.

“Lay back.”

She obeyed, eyes still on me.

I moved beside her rather than over her, kneeling near her shoulder on the bed. “We’re going slow. You’ll use your mouth a little, and I’ll get you ready with my hand. If you need to stop, tap my thigh or say red. If you need slower, yellow.”

She nodded, her gaze dropping to me again.

“Words.”

She blinked up at me, dazed enough from my mouth that her eyes took a second to focus.

“Um… green?” Her brows pulled together. “Can’t I just say yes?”

The question stopped me more cleanly than fear would have. She truly did not understand why a word as simple as yes had failed the room.

I stroked my thumb along her cheekbone. “You can say yes too.”

“Then why do I need colors?”

“Because yes tells me you want me.” I lowered my voice, keeping it calm because this mattered more than my cock. “Green tells me your body and your head are still with me.”

“That sounds… very planned.” She frowned slightly, trying to understand.

“It is.”

“But sex is meant to feel romantic.” Her eyes dropped between us, then back to my face. “Stopping to say colors doesn’t feel romantic.”

“That is because you think stopping means something went wrong.” I touched the side of her throat, feeling her pulse jump beneath my thumb. “When I ask your color, I’m telling you I am still listening. I am still answering to you.”

I kept my hand on her face, the other braced beside her hip, because she needed to feel held while we talked about things people in our world preferred to pretend happened naturally. Safety had structure. Desire, if it was going to survive men like me, needed better than hope.

Sienna swallowed. “Normal people don’t do that.”

“No.”

“They just…” Her lashes lowered, embarrassment moving through her. “They start. And consent is already done because both people are there, and then the woman just…”

“The woman just what?”

Her mouth tightened as if she regretted speaking. “Nothing.”

“Sienna.”

She looked at the sheets. “She just stays until it’s over.”