No one has ever touched me like this before.
“Come here,” he whispers and I finally turn to look at him, his fingers tightening on my neck, pulling me closer. I go willingly, he doesn’t have to force me to do anything, and the next thing I know I’m fully encircled in his arms as he draws me into his warmth. His hand still around my neck, his other hand resting on my back, our mouths are perfectly aligned.
But he doesn’t kiss me, not yet. It’s as if he wants to torture me. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me, and I ache. I ache so bad I curl my fingers into a fist, my nails biting into the palm of my hands. His lips hover above mine and I can smell his breath, warm and fruity from the wine we consumed earlier. The very wine that makes my head buzz the slightest bit now. He licks his lips, as if anticipating my taste, and something hot and foreign begins to throb low in my belly.
A matching throb beats between my legs.
“Tell me if I’m moving too fast, okay?” He touches my cheek, that same thumb that stroked my neck only moments ago now on my face. Caressing me, driving me insane as he runs it across my skin. Everything he does is slow. Deliberate. He doesn’t ask, though he’s cautious. He makes sure I’m all right, that I’m good with whatever is about to happen between us.
And then he just . . . does it.
My eyes close with absolute trust as his mouth falls on mine. I feel like I’m still falling at the first touch of his lips. A free fall into open air as my stomach rolls and turns, everything inside of me going loose and making my head spin. All from the subtle shift of his firm mouth as he steers the kiss and it becomes more determined. I part my lips and he swallows my shuddery exhale, just before he touches the tip of his tongue to the center of my bottom lip.
I go still at the sensation and he does it again. Tentative yet assured. Bold yet inquisitive. I don’t react when he slips his hand into my hair, his fingers curling around the strands and giving them a gentle tug. I reach out and rest my hand on his chest, feel the accelerated beat of his heart beneath my palm, and I shift closer, wanting to feel more of his warmth, his strength.
Wanting to feel more of him.
He ends the kiss and pulls away to study me, his brows drawn down, his lips damp. With my other hand I touch his face, my fingers drifting across the line of his jaw, his prickly stubble abrading my thumb. He watches me, his glasses gone, and I don’t remember him taking them off but I like him like this. Open and warm and vulnerable, quiet and calm and . . .
Sexy.
He closes his eyes and presses his lips together, his jaw going rigid. It’s like he’s trying his best to control himself, control his emotions, and a thrill courses through me that I have enough power to make him react this way.
Me. The girl who’s felt so powerless for so long.
“You know exactly what you do to me, don’t you.” He says it as a statement, not a question, and my entire body goes warm at the tone of his voice, the look in his eyes. I don’t remove my hand from his face, letting my thumb streak across his bottom lip, and as he parts his lips I feel a gust of warm breath against my skin. A shiver moves through me.
“What am I doing to you?” I want to hear him describe my effect on him. It’s a heady feeling, realizing my feminine power for the first time in my life. I want to revel in this moment.
“Driving me insane.” He grabs hold of my wrist, circling his fingers around it as he brings my fingers more fully to his mouth. He drops kisses on my knuckles, his lips light as a feather, damp and hot and leaving me an aching, confused mess. “I don’t want to push you.”
“You’re not,” I say quickly, my voice shaky. His lips on my skin send shock waves pulsing through my veins. It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced before and I’m unusually greedy. I want more.