I pet her hair away from her face, picking out leaves and pine cones. “Meghan. I missed you.”
“Don’t. We’re not doing that,” she announces, her voice trembling.
Oh yes, we are. If she thinks this is a quick fuck because we got all horny at seeing each other, and then we’ll be on our merry way again—she’s got another fucking think coming.
I kiss down her throat and back up to her jaw, following the delicate bones to her ear where I murmur, “You look so pretty today. So…very…kissable.”
I punctuate every word with a slow, sensuous kiss, licking and sucking one sweet earlobe into my mouth, then switching to the other.
She’s not fighting anymore.
Meghan melts into me.
I roll to the side and cup one of her soft breasts through her top, teasing out the stiff point of her nipple.
“Mmm. Need to do something about these clothes,” I say.
“Herc,” she says, her body tightening once again as my hand travels down her ribs, caressing her stomach, hips, and thighs.
I kiss her again, and when she feels more relaxed, I gradually let go of her wrists.
Her freed hands clasp the back of my head, and my body twitches at the sensation of her raking my scalp, my short hair bristling through her fingers.
“What are you doing to me?” Meghan breathes. I know what she means: Why am I not playing the game anymore?
“Petting you. Getting you ready to take me.”
“We didn’t used to care about foreplay,” she says.
I did care about it. I always did. For me, it wasn’t just about getting her wet.
Meghan goes through her whole life with her armor up. All through college, I’m the only one she ever let in. Okay, and maybe also Leela, after some bumps in the road.
Most people fear Meghan. After our stumbling beginning, I fell for her and fell hard. I wanted her to know how special she was, every minute of every day.
When we were together, I made sure she knew. That’s how I kept her close, always primed and ready. Nothing made me happier than letting her know I saw her. There’s nothing better than watching a loved, cared-for woman come in your arms.
As we share sighing breaths, stirring up all sorts of feelings, the whole truth lands on me like a pile of bricks: I wasn’t addicted to the thrill, the orgasms, or the kinks. I was aroused at making her feel important to me. Nobody else sees Meghan the way I do, and that’s the woman I want her to see.
And here’s where I’m at: wanting to be a better man for the love of a woman. The thing I had said to Meghan when we’d broken up? Yeah, that wasn’t even true.
If I could clone myself, I would kick my own ass.
There’s no point in dancing around it anymore. She’s mine.
“I missed you so much. Just let me look at you, and kiss and touch you. Let me count your eyelashes. Let me memorize your freckles.”
It’s then that I notice her watery eyes and her throat bobbing. “Herc,” she rasps. “What the fuck are you doing, writing me poems now? Do not mess with me. Do not. It won’t end well for you.”
I answer with a deeper kiss, tonguing her mouth and drawing out her moans.
“I’m not messing with you. I would never mess with you. I might panic and fuck things up beyond belief and spend months in misery, beating myself up. I might do all that, but I’d never deliberately fuck with your feelings. Let me answer your question with a question: When was the last time someone kissed you? Really kissed you the way you deserve to be kissed?”
Her eyes widen, and I recognize a trace of that pain that I’m responsible for. “You know the answer to that.”
I trace my knuckles over her cheekbone, chin, and neck. “And when was the last time a man spoiled you with his tongue?”
“Shut up,” she answers sharply. “You know it’s only been you. It’s only been about a year. There hasn’t been anyone else.”