London stretches over me, catlike, and kisses me once before asking, “Where do you keep your condoms?”
Running my thumb across her lips, I say, “Bedside table.” I tilt my head to show her which side I mean, adding, “But I don’t want to do that yet.”
She thinks I’m kidding, and goes to lightly smack my chest, but I catch her hand. “No, I’m serious.”
“We’ve had sex before, you nerd.”
“It was different.” I reconsider. “This is different.”
Nodding slowly, London tries to hide her confusion, and fails, finally admitting, “I want you. I mean, you.”
“I do, too,” I assure her. “God. Trust me.” I close my eyes, swallow, and steady my thoughts before I look at her again. “But I’m also pretty sure I love you,” I say, and she stops breathing. “And I really, really don’t want to fuck this up.”
Her mouth moves for a couple of beats before any sound comes out. “You love me?”
I shrug, going all in. “Yeah.”
As if she only now seems to realize it, she whispers, “You’re shaking.”
I smile, kissing the corner of her mouth. “Because I’m nervous.”
Tilting her head, she lets out a quietly skeptical, “You’re not nervous.”
“I’ve only ever loved one other person.” I reach up, sliding her hair behind her shoulders and cupping her face. Fuck, the way she’s watching me . . . “And doing this feels really different, okay?”
London nods, and slides off my lap to lie back on my bed, wide blue eyes trained expectantly on my face. “What should we do?”
I smile and lose my breath a little at the way her expression softens. She’s never said it, but I can tell London loves my smile.
“I could touch you?” I ask, leaning over her to suck her neck.
I watch her pull her lower lip between her teeth, thinking this over before she whispers, “Okay. I could touch you, too?”
“Me first.” I smile into a kiss to her neck, and inch my fingers under the waistband of her underwear. My hand moves slowly over her pubic bone, farther down . . . and she hisses when I spread her, sliding over her clit and lower and—
“Fuck,” I gasp, pressing my forehead to hers. “Fuck, you are—”
“I know. I know.” She slides her hand around the back of my neck, pulling me down, closing her eyes, working her mouth over mine, working my mouth open. But I want to see her while I do this. Want to witness everything. I give her one kiss and then move back, watching her face as I pull the slickness up and over her clit, circling,
around
around
around
and her eyes fall half closed, jaw goes slack, hips arch into my hand.
“Is that nice?”
She exhales a quiet, “Yeah.”
I pull my hand out of her underwear. Her eyes shoot open and she reaches blindly for my arm. “Don’t. Don’t—”
“Shh.” I kiss her. “Trust me.” Showing her my intentions, I slide her underwear down her hips and off her legs.
Relief coats her expression, and she laughs a little, stretching to kiss me.
I run my hand over her stomach. Her knees are bent, legs parted slightly. Just enough for my hand, but not for my full attention.
“Spread your legs.”
She hesitates, and I kiss her, saying again, “Spread your legs. Wide. Please. I want to be able to see.”
With a blush, she lowers her knees to the sides, focusing on my face as I reach forward, touching her.
Something in my chest seems to drop, pulled by a weight in my stomach that makes me feel wild and breathless as I look at her, so open for me. I tease her, slow at first, exploring, telling her I’m patient in every way she needs me to be, but when she reaches for me, running her hands over my bare chest and down, I know she needs more. Faster.
Steady, steady friction.
She whimpers, tugging at the back of my neck, wanting my mouth on hers but I shake my head, telling her I need to watch, I want her to just feel my hand. In truth, I want her wild and a little unhinged, I like the way she finally seems to be all in, needing my weight over her and my kiss on her mouth. I want her begging for my tongue and my cock and my fingers.
She growls a little in frustration but the way she holds her breath when I speed up, her tight gasp when I slide two fingers into her—it’s everything. The entire time, she watches my face; I can only feel it, because I’m watching my hand on her, reeling over the way my fingers come out soaked, the way her skin flushes, the way her legs shake as she gets close, hips arching from the bed and into my hand as she starts to tighten, coming with a long, sharp cry of relief.
She shivers under my touch when I pull my fingers out, and run them up and down the soft, wet skin.
Her eyes are closed, arms bent beside her head and fingers curled in her hair.
“You alive, Logan?”
“No.” She giggles and I bend, drawing the tip of my tongue over her dimple. I’ve wanted to do that forever.