“You really believe that?” she whispers.
“Yes.”
London studies me for a long moment before shifting closer beneath the blankets.
Then closer again. Until her hand settles lightly against my chest. My heartbeat kicks hard enough I’m pretty sure she feels it.
“Troy,” she whispers.
I swallow. “Yeah?”
“Kiss me.”
I’m done for.
I cup the back of her neck and kiss her slowly this time. Not desperate like before.
London melts against me almost instantly, soft sigh slipping into my mouth while her fingers curl into my back.
I roll her gently onto her back without breaking the kiss, settling between her thighs as the blankets tangle around us.
Every inch of her feels warm. Soft.
Perfect.
And the second my hand slides beneath the hem of my flannel on her body, she trembles.
“You okay?” I murmur against her mouth.
“Yes.”
I kiss her again anyway. Slower this time. Giving her room to stop me. Instead, her legs part farther beneath me.
My control snaps thread by thread while I drag my mouth down her throat, kissing the soft skin there until she gasps quietly.
“Troy—”
“Hmm?”
“When you do that, I can’t think.”
A rough laugh escapes me.
“Trust me,” I mutter against her pulse, “I’m having the same problem.”
She smiles against my mouth right before I kiss her again.
Then my hand slides higher beneath the shirt. And I finally touch bare skin.
My eyes close briefly. Soft curves. Warm stomach. Plush hips beneath my palms.
London sucks in a shaky breath when I kiss lower, pushing the shirt up inch by inch as my mouth follows. Every part of her is better than the last.
“Beautiful,” I say against her skin.
Her breath catches hard. “Troy…”
I look up to find her staring down at me with wide, vulnerable eyes.