I panic because she doesn’t move. Her emerald eyes are pinned to mine, her expression inquisitive enough to make me second guess opening my fucking mouth. I just gave her an out . . . I’ve given her a free pass to choose between what she wants and what she believes she needs.
“I don’t know,” she says before her eyes trail down to my lips, as her body is hovering over mine. “I’ve never kissed like that before.”
Her words paralyze me.
“You’ve never kissed like that before?” My heart falls into my gut. I know she’s kissed people before, what does she mean?
“No, it was so intimate. I’ve never kissed someone like that, not until now.”
Her eyes catching mine, I see the truth boiling behind her words. Suddenly I’m acutely aware of her firm nipples teasing my chest, her hair tickling my cheeks, and her breath mingling with mine. I’m pinned, trapped, taken by her answer, her body, her pulse thundering through the artery down the side of her neck. I need to press my lips there, feel the pace of her excitement, her desire that boils through her veins as she gives herself to me entirely.
She lowers her hips against mine and finds home.
Pressure, just enough pressure to drive me fucking crazy.
A smile crests her beautifully lonely lips. “Is this okay for you?” she asks in a delicate tone.
“It’s perfect,” I answer.
I rest my hands on the curves of her lower back. My fingers meeting the natural curve of her ass I feel her desire to push down against me.
Instinctively I roll my hips and push myself up against her. Partly afraid she’ll decide this might be too much, I watch her reaction. Her eyes go wide, she presses back and I know she likes what I have to offer. Her lips crash against mine as I push up to meet hers. My hands desperate to find some of her exposed flesh, as bad as I want her under me, as much as I want to bury myself deep in her soul, I don’t. Not yet. We are on fire, burning together, igniting something so fucking intense, something I never felt with anyone else ever before. Wordlessly, we were speaking volumes with our bodies. She loves me and I love her.
She wiggles, adjusting herself . . . her hips . . . her legs finally straddling mine. I pull my hands from her lower back and push her hair away from her face. Both of us still diving deep into kissing each other. She backs far enough away I can see her eyes are damp with an insatiable need. I silently ask to feel her flesh as I catch her shirt between my fingers. Six buttons, that’s how many I counted when I watched her walk in, six small delicate buttons separate me from finally touching paradise, dragging my mouth over her swelling breasts, tasting her milky soft skin.
She flashes a timid smile and her hands replace mine. She teases me with her eyes as she slowly unfastens each button. She’s torturing me. Her shirt is stretching open, and I do the right thing, the tough answer to her call, I wait for her to tell me it’s okay to touch her beautiful body. It’s taking everything I am to wait.
I reach across and take over unbuttoning the last two. I pull up off the couch a little and remove my shirt. My chest bare, my muscles tight, my heart crashing against my bones. She’s not wearing a bra.
She sits straight up, all her weight bearing down on me, perfectly warm, consuming, I buck my hips and I watch her gorgeous body react. I reach up, slip my fingers behind the edge of her shirt across her shoulders. Our eyes magically tethered to each other, as her shirt slides off her shoulders. My mouth goes dry.
“Mmmmm,” she moans as she grinds against me. I’m straining against my pants, I want to be inside her, feel her tighten around every inch I have to give.
“Let me in,” I whisper.
“I have,” she breathes.
“I want all of you, every part of who you are, all of it.”
“I’ll give you everything.” Her words crack against my ears.
“I’m here, for you. Let go and let me in Rose.”
Suddenly, as if she’s been waiting for someone to ask for every part of who she is, as if the one stone blocking the rush of a river becomes dislodged . . . she breaks down against me.
“I never asked for this life. I just want to be free, I want to give you everything I am,” she answers, her body contradicting her words. “I don’t want to fear losing you to my past. I want to believe I deserve you. I want to trust your words, I want to make love to you, but I’m so fucking scared you’ll never forgive me for who I was.”
Her words slice deep across my heart. This woman, someone who cuts me down to the core of who I am, is still worried, after seven months of being away from each other, being separated by fear and through all that, never sharing herself with me entirely is frightened of me leaving her. Fuck that. Enough is enough. Maybe I can’t tell her how much I love her, maybe the words just aren’t getting through. Maybe it just needs to be done without words, without fears dressing up like something that can save us, I can’t take it anymore. I need to show her how much I love her.