If that isn’t the whole damn truth, though.
Gabe’s mouth finds my ear, each touch of his like he’s discovering something new.
“Please,” I beg. “Please, please, please.”
I don’t even know what I’m begging for, but thankfully he does. He drags his hot, perfect mouth downward, nipping my collarbone, his beard coarse against my stomach.
Then the weight of him, the heat of him, is gone. He wraps his long, beautiful hands around my ankles and pulls me toward him, my feet hanging off the edge, his palms hot on my legs.
“Can I?” he asks.
I nod, my heartbeat like a drum throughout my entire body.
The sight of him there, kneeling in front of me, is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
But then he actually touches me—his thumb circling the inside of my knee, the stubble of his beard brushing against my inner thigh—and I know that every sexual experience I’ve ever had in my life pales in comparison to the way it feels when Gabe puts his mouth on me.
His tongue is hot and wet and eager as he drapes my leg over his shoulder. And I can tell he’s making a point down there. Making up for what happened ten years ago.
It’s the tremble, though, that makes my heart feel like it’s a vibrating anvil. The slight shake of his hands when he touches me, the groan he let out when he first knelt on the floor, the way his fingers tighten around my hips, holding me as if he’s afraid I might disappear.
My head is against the mattress, my arm over my eyes. My other hand is in his hair, and it’s so soft against my palm. I want to capture everything, hold it in my memories forever.
Gabe’s tongue stokes a forest fire of need inside me, burning brighter and brighter. I dig my ankle into his shoulder blade, toes curling.
“There…Please…Gabe…Please…” I’m a broken record, unable to verbalize anything but the same words over and over again. “There. There. There.”
I squeeze my eyes shut like I’m standing on a twenty-foot-tall diving board, about to hurl myself off the edge.
I realize I’m coming a half second before it happens—that moment after leaping, when your heart is still in your throat and there’s nothing but air around you.
Maybe I scream his name. Maybe it’s all in my head.
When I come back to reality, Gabe is there, leaning over me, his hair sticking up every which way and a bead of sweat sliding down his brow. He’s laughing, but his arm, planted next to me, is shaking.
I stare up at him, both shocked and spent.
“Good?” he asks, and I want to kiss that cocky smile right off of him.
But hell if he hasn’t earned it.
“Good,” I say, my throat raw.
His hand comes up to cup my face, and I lean into it, lean into the kiss he gives me, at first gentle, his smile imprinting on my own. My desire feels like a wave, still and settled one minute and then, in the next, a rising swell.
The kiss goes from soft to desperate and this time it’s Gabe’s fingers in my hair, almost as if he’s bracing himself.
“Gabe,” I murmur, his lips still against mine.
“Mmm,” he says, the sound strained and distant, as if he’s reciting baseball statistics or math equations or whatever men do when they’re too turned on to function.
“Now,” I urge him. “Now please.”
His forehead is damp against mine as he nods, his hand flailing outward, searching. It returns with a condom and lube. His head rears back as he applies them, touching himself, and for a moment, I’m able to admire the gorgeous stretch of his neck, the hard swallow he makes as I reach out to feel him.
“Don’t,” he chokes out, stilling my hand. “I…you…can’t…”
I shift beneath him, making space for his body, my hips cradling his, feeling the length of him against me.
“Fuck,” he groans. “Can I…can we…please…?”
I grip his shoulders.
“Yes,” I say. “Yes, please yes.”
With a hiss of pleasure, he notches himself against me and pushes.
His voice is gravel, swearing and praising as he advances, thick and deep and slow inside of me. I might have responded, but my breath, my voice, is gone, my entire being focused on the place where our bodies are coming together.
His arms are braced on either side of my shoulders. I don’t know where he gets the strength because I’m having trouble remembering how to breathe. I wait for him to start moving. Need him to start moving.
But he stays still, releasing one long, gusting exhale.
“Gabe…” I finally manage to choke out. “Don’t…stop…Please…don’t…”
Before I can say it again, he’s responding, easing slowly back and then pushing forward, deeper.
“Yes…” My head goes back. “I need…yes…”
The words hiss out between my teeth as he tilts his hips and thrusts again. Hard. Perfect.
My words are gone then, lost in the cacophony of groans and panting coming from a place deep inside of me. Sounds that Gabe matches, his own head shaking back and forth as our bodies meet over and over again, almost as if he can’t believe this is actually happening.
I rake my nails down his back and he growls, tucking his head against the crook of my neck, biting and kissing, his hips moving faster. We’re both chasing the same thing, racing toward it together.
“Yes.” He takes my earlobe between his teeth. “Yes.”
It’s a request. A command.
Somehow, he’s able to balance himself on one arm, his other hand snaking between our bodies. His fingers are slick. He leans back slightly, just enough to change the angle of everything, just enough for him to go even deeper, just enough for him to drag his thumb hard and firm against me.
Just enough.
“Chani.” His breath is burned into the side of my neck. “Chani.”
My name on his lips is perfect.
“Fuck, I’m…”