"Rush," she breathes.
"Yeah?"
"Are you sure about this?"
I pull back just enough to look at her. "Yeah, I'm sure. Are you?"
"Yeah."
"Tell me what you want."
"I want you. I want this. I want you to stop holding back."
That's all I need to hear.
I kiss her again, and this time I don't hold back. My hands are everywhere—her hair, her waist, her thighs.
She pulls at my cut and I shrug it off, let it fall to the floor.
"Bedroom," she says against my mouth.
"Yeah."
She takes my hand and leads me down the hall. Her bedroom is small but it's hers.
We stand there looking at each other, and the weight of what we're about to do settles between us.
"Last chance to change your mind," I say.
"I'm not changing my mind."
"Okay."
"Are you?"
"No."
She steps close and her hands go to my shirt. She pulls it over my head, and her eyes trace the ink on my chest and arms.
"You're staring," I say.
"You're worth staring at."
I pull her tank top off and my breath catches. She's not wearing a bra and her breasts are perfect, nipples already hard.
I reach out and cup one, test the weight of it in my palm. My thumb brushes across her nipple and she gasps.
"Sensitive," I say.
"Yeah."
"Good."
I lean down and take her nipple in my mouth, suck hard enough to make her moan.
Her hands go to my hair and she holds me there, her breathing already getting faster.
I switch to the other breast and give it the same attention, while my hand slides down her stomach to the waistband of her pajama pants.