“I’m not sure I can give all that to you.” I step forward and touch her arms, pulling her close, hip to hip.
“Then let’s at least try,” she rasps in my ear.
“That I can do, with tremendous pleasure.”
Or die trying.
Chapter 9
This time, the kiss holds expectation tinged with belief, the very real feeling that this is about to unfold. We’re naked, pressed together in a tangle of skin and limbs, hair and fingers, tongues finding secrets between us and making them come alive, exposing them to the air where they evaporate.
She tastes like salty sweet hope, like an unleashed temptress who finally gets to test the world, who can push and see how powerful she really is. I am not about to be an obstacle as Lindsay finally, exquisitely, reaches for what she wants.
Wholeness.
We can find it together, I know, as her hair tickles my jaw, our abs brushing together, her belly going tight as I cup one breast and revel in the fullness. It’s light and heavy, a globe of agile heat, and my fingertip skims the nipple, making her moan.
My cock pushes against her thigh, her legs shifting as I cradle her jaw with my other hand and kiss her until I can’t tell the difference between her breath and mine.
“You taste perfect. You taste like everything, Lindsay. I’ve wanted to kiss you a million times a day, every day, for four years. How do you do it?” Before she can answer, I kiss her again, a slow, languid kiss that takes its time, as if it’s separate from us, an entity that has its own agenda.
“Do what?” she asks, breathless. I slide my hand down her ribs, the sweet curve of her waist, the swell of her hip, then forward and lower, one finger sliding to a point that makes her gasp and cling to me, shuddering with pleasure.
“Taste so good.” I kiss her shoulder, touching her with slow, wet circles. Her knees bend and she gives me more of her weight as her lips part. I kiss my way down, until it’s my turn to bend my knees, lowering myself before her.
I worship at the altar of Lindsay.
“Spread your legs,” I order.
“What?” Her voice is hazy, a million miles away.
I use my hands to move her. She threads her fingers in my hair as I reach up, my tongue finding what I seek, my hands cupping her ass as she moans and widens her legs, standing before me as I kneel.
This.
Ah, this.
She tastes so much better right here. Her mouth is an appetizer, her nipples a garnish.
This is a main course.
“Drew, I -- ” Lindsay sucks in a huge breath and tightens as I seek warmth, one of my fingers inside her, the sound of appreciation that she makes all I need. I want to make her feel good. I want to make her let go. I want to be the one person in the entire world who gives her what she deserves.
Permission to be herself.
Every breath I take as she falls deeper and deeper into a place no one – not even I – can touch, makes me love her more. My hands and mouth can perform magic on her skin, but can they work to mend the years of hurt?
All I can do is try.
And try.
And never, ever stop trying.
She pulls away, but I tighten my hold, determined to make her lose herself so she can find herself again, bigger and better than before. There is nothing in the world more honorable than having someone choose to be raw and vulnerable with you. Nothing. Having Lindsay trust me enough to shatter and buck, to writhe and groan, is a gift.
“I want you, Drew. Deep inside me -- ” She gasps, her throat closed by the spasm that wraps my fingers in a tight clench, her sweet flesh swelling under my lips and tongue, her body swaying above me.
She folds. I follow. I chase her down, down, down to the ground where she quietly burns as climax after climax bring her to ecstasy, my singular goal to keep her in that place where all she knows is sensation and goodness, where her fine bones and supple flesh are the entire world, and where she can only say my name as if it were the singular lifeline she has to keep her tied to reality.
I’m doing this for her.
Me.
But she lets me.
Emotion pours through me, combined with arousal, catching my throat off-guard, making my eyes pinprick, my heart slamming in my chest like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I spiral inward as Lindsay’s hands cover mine, her thigh against my mouth as she twists, her voice a pale hush that says, “Oh, God, I need you.”
She sits up and pulls me to her, the taste of her willing surrender now on her lips, too, as we say so much with anything but words. Soon, I’m over her, the bed next to us, looming like a sentry, the floor more than enough for our connection, our linking, our reunion.
I’ve never been inside her before.
She has to ask. I won’t come uninvited.
“Please,” she whispers, the vibration low and soft. I feel it against my abs, her request diffusing out from her skin as well as in words. “Please, Drew. Make love to me. I want you in me. I want you everywhere.”
Stage fright isn’t my thing. Unlike other guys in my unit, I never froze when the pressure was on. And that’s not happening right now. It’s not.