I haven’t been kissed in a long time. Not by anyone who mattered. My heart beats harder.
Then our lips lock. Tight. Sensual. Moving toward each other instead of away.
My fingers tighten on his shirt before I even realize I’m holding him. Tugging him toward me. I need him closer. Shuffling to meet him, like my body demands. Not running, not retreating, like I would expect to be. Holding firm, keeping him near.
My hand slips free from his and moves to his shoulder, desperate to find more of him. It slides down his chest, feeling the strength beneath his shirt. My fingers curl into the fabric, lowering slowly to the top button. His hand settles over mine, making me pause. I don’t want to stop.
“There’s no rush. We’ve waited a long time for this.” His thumb skims lightly over my knuckles. “I want to savor every moment.”
His hand is warm over mine. Steady. Certain.
And suddenly I realize how much I need him to stop talking.
“Maybe I don’t want to wait,” I whisper.
He chuckles softly, then rests his forehead against mine. We breathe together. In and out. Us, the only sound in the room.
“I’ve been waiting a while,” he murmurs. “You can wait a few minutes more.”
“I don’t like waiting.” I pop the button open anyway.
He stills. For a moment, I think I’ve gone too far. Panic hits, and I tense, waiting for the crash. Then he kisses me again—harder this time, more certain. Control slipping from my fingers to his.
And I like it.
I surprise myself with that. Not being the one in charge feels good. It’s been forever since anyone showed me the way.
His grip on the back of my head tightens slightly, pulling us closer.
His tongue leads mine. I follow.
I never follow anyone.
But tonight, I follow him.
And the realization sends a shiver through me. It’s strangely freeing to let someone else take control. To trust someone enough to do it.
And the world doesn’t fall apart when I do.
His hand slides to my throat; I don’t feel threatened. I feel held. His fingers tighten a fraction, not enough to hurt, just enough to remind me he’s there. That we’re doing this. My breath catches as his fingers tense, then he releases, and I only want him more.
It’s been so long, I don’t remember being held like this. Years of no one are fading away with each kiss. A promised lifetime of solitude, impossible, as his body talks to mine.
I kiss him harder, losing myself in him for the moment, enjoying the intensity of the electricity between us. My hands drop lower on his shirt, popping the second button, then the third. Yearning to see more, and too impatient to wait. My body screams for his touch.
His breath hitches this time. His other hand settles on my waist, needy fingers digging into my skin, sliding further down until he cups my ass.
I don’t think.
I just move.
With one knee on either side of him, I straddle his lap, and his eyes pop wide. Blue. Burning. And beautiful enough to get lost in.
He pulls back slightly, chest heaving, both hands on my butt cheeks, pulling me downward. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Neither was I,” I admit.
With the line crossed, I think,fuck it. Go all in.