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She moves backward on the bed and I follow, and somewhere in the process the rest of her clothes become increasingly inconvenient.

Merry catches her foot in something and has to grab my arm to keep from tipping sideways, which makes us both laugh until she manages to free herself and immediately pushes me onto the mattress in retaliation.

“Oh, so this is my fault?”

“You distracted me.”

I reach for her, and she comes down beside me, and for a long moment, all we do is look at each other.

There is enough light from the lamp to see her clearly, and I let myself. The very subtle dusting of freckles I hadn’t noticed until just now. The faint tan line across her collarbone. The way her hair has gone completely wild and curly around her face.

Merry’s gaze moves over me with the same unhurried attention.

Normally, being looked at for this long would make me want to do something. Say something. Break the moment before I become too aware of myself inside it.

Her fingers skim gently along my arm. “You’re beautiful.”

My first instinct is to deflect it. I feel the response waiting somewhere behind my teeth, something easy that would turn the attention back toward her.

“Thank you,” I say instead.

Merry smiles, and I kiss her, and after that, time becomes harder to measure. Whatever tenderness had slowed us down lasts only until her hand slides over my bare stomach and pulls me closer.

Her mouth opens beneath mine, and I move over her as she sinks farther into the mattress, her hands running over my back with confidence. There is so much bare skin between us now that every shift creates another point of contact, another warm slide of her body against mine, and I can’t seem to get close enough.

I kiss her throat, her shoulder. The place just beneath her collarbone that makes her fingers tighten in my hair.

“Flora.”

I lift my head. Merry’s cheeks are flushed, her chest rising quickly beneath me. She looks different like this, more like herself. Every reaction crosses her face before she can organize it into something funny or dismiss it as too much.

I love watching it happen.

“What?”

Her hand slides along my side. “I want you.”

The words hit me with enough force that I stop breathing for a second, and heat moves through me, low and immediate.

I lower my mouth to her again. “You have me.”

Merry makes a sound against my lips that nearly destroys whatever patience I have left.

My hands move over her more deliberately now, and I let myself watch her as I touch her, learning what makes her arch toward me and what makes her breathing go shallow. When I start moving my hand lower, I pause long enough to meet her eyes.

Merry nods. “Fuck, please.”

“Like this?”

“Yes.”

I move my fingers, finding her clit. She’s so fucking warm and wet, and the contact makes her arch off the bed. The moan that follows is delicious and breathy and everything that is right about sex.

“Oh,” Merry moans. Her eyes are closed and her head sinks deeper into the bed. One hand reaches for me and finds my wrist, not to stop me but to keep me there. “This. Just this. More of this.”

I smile against her nipple, and Merry opens one eye.

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself.”