“I didn’t resent it at all.”
Kimba breathes out a little laugh, looks down at our hands in her lap. “In some ways I envy her.”
“No.” I angle until I can see her face, look into her eyes. “You have nothing to be jealous of. You know that, right?”
“She had all those years with you. She’s had a life with you.” She dips her chin to her chest. “A child with you. I wouldn’t trade the path I’ve chosen for anyone else’s. I love the choices I’ve made. I stand by them, but choosing one thing often means not choosing something else. I look at my sister. She complains, but her kids are the joy of her life.”
“I’m sure you had offers,” I force myself to say, not wanting to hear about the men she could have had and kept. I’m just glad she didn’t tie herself permanently to any of them so I can have her now.
“Daddy used to say don’t waste time on things that don’t set you on fire inside, and I haven’t. Every campaign, every election, each candidate—I’ve believed in. I believed that putting that person in power advanced one of my convictions.”
She bites her bottom lip. “I felt the same about people. I didn’t want to waste time on anyone who didn’t set me on fire inside. And there have been people I liked, people I enjoyed sex with, but no one I wanted to build a life with. That’s why I never committed. No one ever set me on fire inside.”
She looks over at me, her eyes telling me before her words do. “Until now. You set me on fire inside, Ezra Stern.”
I can’t breathe. I can’t swallow. I can’t move. My composure teeters on the head of a needle, but I at least have enough presence of mind to know exactly what I should say right now. “I love you, Tru.”
It feels like the words have been waiting on my tongue for years, for the moment when I was old enough, free enough to feel them, to say them. The look on her face says she’s waited that long to hear them from me. She slides her fingers into my hair and touches her soft lips to mine.
“I love you, too,” she says. “So much.”
I kiss her so deeply, I struggle to breathe, but I can’t make myself stop. She’s my air and her heartbeat a talking drum, telling our story through the walls of our chests. I want us to be one, to be joined and hooked and sealed together. Breaking the kiss, she sits on the bed and lies back, her lips wet and full. She watches me with a sultry expectation. Keeping her eyes on me, she undoes the line of buttons holding her sundress together. The panels fall away, revealing plump breasts cupped in gold satin and lace. She sits up, shrugs out of the dress and reaches behind her back to unclasp the bra. Her breasts spill free, and I reach out a hand to touch her, but she shakes her head, her eyes dark and molten.
“Watch me,” she whispers.
She lifts, pulling the dress from under her, tossing it aside. She does the same with the gold panties, sliding them off and tossing them away, leaving her naked on the bed. She lies back in a cloud of curls. I swallow hard when she lifts her knees and spreads her legs, honoring me with this beautiful, bare intimacy.
“Are you watching?” she asks, her voice husky and hot.
I manage to nod and try not to drool.
She slides slim fingers down the plane of her belly and between the fat lips of her pussy, squeezing her clit.
“Shit, Tru,” I hiss, moving forward.
“Watch.”
She palms herself, an aggressive move that flattens the lips and the tight bud of nerves. Her fingers go to work, brushing against her clit at first slowly, then with more speed, more pressure. Her back arches and she moans, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. I can’t resist. I sit beside her, hoping to catch her scent. I know how she smells, how she tastes, and my mouth waters for it, but she’s so clearly in charge of her own pleasure I don’t even want to intrude.
“My breasts,” she gasps. “Suck my breasts.”
Thank God.
With permission to be part of the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed, I take her nipple between my lips. Her hips are bucking and she slaps her pussy, so I know she doesn’t want gentle. I bite down, and she moans, her fingers going faster.
“Yes, Ez.” She dips between her legs, gathering her essence, fingering herself with one hand but she offers me the other, wet and shiny. I take her fingers into my mouth, lick the webbing between, drag my lips over her palm, searching out every trace of her. I knead one breast and suck hard on the other.
“Oh my God, that’s it.” She screams, her hips bowing off the bed, her body stiffening with the tempest of her pleasure. She rides her hand and bites her lip and pulls her knee back, opening herself wider to her plundering fingers. I keep kneading her breasts but pull back enough to watch her because I know this is just as much for me as it is for her. She knew what this would do to me. There’s already a wet spot on my shorts from seeing her come. She moans with the sensations and after several seconds, stills.
“Stand up,” she commands hoarsely, her eyes dark, possessive slits. “Undress for me. I want to see you.”
I do, my gaze latched on to hers. I peel the T-shirt over my head, relishing the hungry crawl of her eyes over my chest and abs. I undo the belt, pulling it through the loops and tossing it to the floor. My cargo shorts and boxers follow, falling around my feet. She licks her lips, her eyes zeroed in on my dick. I take it in my fist and pump, slowly, rubbing my thumb over the wet tip. In seconds, I’m lengthening, thickening. I widen my legs, plant my feet to brace for the torrent.
“I’m gonna come if I don’t stop,” I gasp.
“Then stop.” She spreads her legs. “Give that to me.”
I kneel on the bed between her thighs and line our bodies up. Supporting myself on one elbow, I push the hair from her eyes.