Once he’s gloriously naked, I stop thinking about his handwriting and focus on the feel of his warm flesh against mine. He’s lying on his side, pressed against me. He teases my nipple with his tongue and then trails his fingers to my center where he finds me soaked for him.
“So wet,” he praises, his breath beading my nipple. I feel a nudge against my thigh, something hard. Something mouthwatering—I know for a fact. He steers my hand to his length, and my fingers coast over coarse, manscaped hair. I tug on the part of him I’ve never admired so much or so often, and match my strokes to his.
My body recognizes the familiarity of his touch and relaxes, my legs falling open. I’ve arrived at a state of arousal so sharp, so hyper-focused, I lose myself in it. My orgasm builds, but slower than any one before it. And since he knows when I’m about to come, he times his strokes accordingly.
He reroutes my hand to his hair and then ducks his head to kiss my belly button. Then he slips between my legs and delivers a leisurely, devious lick to my swollen clitoris.
My hips tilt to meet his tongue. Soon I’m moaning and pulling his hair. I force my eyes open to take in the scene of his head bobbing, his amazing face framed by my parted legs. My fingers in his hair. The erotic scene is backlit by candlelight, the only music the sounds of his intimate kisses as he bathes me with his tongue.
Overcome by the intensity, I clutch and come. While I’m coasting on a wave of utter bliss, warmth blanketing me despite the cooler air of the room, I lose track of him. Eyes closed, my breaths lengthen. I feel his open mouth on my throat as he kisses me. More kisses trail over my ear and then to my mouth before he issues a command.
“Look at me.”
My lashes flutter open. He fills every inch of my vision, and an unwelcome sensation clutches my heart in an iron grip. The predicament I’ve fervently been trying to avoid has been here all along. It’s so painfully obvious I can no longer deny it.
I’m in love with Benjamin Owen.
Not a crush. Not lust. Not friendly love. In. Love. I probably fell in love with him a long time ago, but denial was the most self-preserving course of action. Tonight is going to encase him in an amber chamber of my heart.
I give the thought a violent shove. I am a damn good organizer. A good organizer knows how to prioritize; knows what to keep and what to throw out. What to hoard in a decorative box in the corner of the closet to be opened at a later date. I tuck my feelings for Benji into the box and vow not to reach for them. Not now. Not later.
“I’m looking at you,” I say, my voice raspy.
“Are you sure about this? Really, really sure? This is it, Firecracker. You give me the green light, and I’m going to send you over again and again. Which I hear is not typical for a first time for a lot of women.”
“Did you take a poll or something?” I tease, the joke hitting its mark. He smiles down at me easily, his thumbs at my temples stroking. I commit to not analyzing further. I don’t want to miss anything.
“Unofficially. I’ve heard a few bad stories. You’re going to have a good one.”
I’m going to have the best one. I wrap my arms around his neck and tip my hips, bumping my softness against his hardness. His mouth drops open. He’s the picture of turned on. I love the picture so much I frame it and tuck it into the box too.
He drops his forehead on mine and shuts his eyes. “I have to put on a condom.” He delivers the news wrapped in disappointment.
“Do you?” I whisper against his waiting lips. I’ve already thought this through. Many, many times.
“Don’t I?” Hope hugs every letter.
“I’ve been on the pill for five years. And you are a master of safety. I assume that extends to the bedroom.” He would never forget a condom and risk an accidental pregnancy or an STD. “Plus, you’ve been single for a while.”
His laugh ruffles my hair, which is a wreck. I can’t muster up the energy to care. “That’s a big gift for me, honey.”
“Very big.” I grind against him again. “Do you accept?”
“Fuck yeah, I accept.” He kisses me again, and this time he doesn’t hold back. He nudges my entrance with the velvety tip of his cock. He lifts his head and zeroes in on my face, his shallow breaths mirroring mine.
He tilts his hips and eases into my folds ever so slowly. His expression is awestruck but confident. Encouraging, even. “Walk me through it.”
“I thought”—I gasp and curl my fingers around the back of his neck when he eases in a bit more—“you were supposed to walk me through it.”
“I don’t know how you feel.” He drops a kiss to my mouth. “Tell me.”
“Eager,” I whisper.
He gives me a million-dollar grin. “You’re not the only one. You’re also strangling me. I don’t mind,” he adds when I loosen my grasp. “But that’s a sign you’re not relaxed, and I need you to relax. I’m going to gauge my every move on your satisfaction. You say back off, I’ll back off.”
“Keep going.” No way in hell am I telling him to back off. I’m a space shuttle before blastoff, all fire and smoke as I prepare to hurtle into the great unknown. He sinks in another inch and I hold my breath. A sharp pain pricks me deep within and I bite my lip.
He doesn’t take his eyes off mine as he rolls his hips. The sharp spike dulls, and before he can slow down, I beg, “More.”