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I smile and flex my hands, prompting him to release his hold so I can trace the sharp edges of his lean chest. I concentrate on my slow drifting finger as I ponder what I should say. ‘I feel light,’ I say quietly, circling his tight nipple, smiling when it stiffens under my touch.
He flicks his hips up again, jolting me. ‘You don’t feel very light to me.’
Pinching his nipple, I twist, throwing him a dirty look. I don’t take it to heart. He loves my arse.
Becker seizes my hand, eyebrows high in warning. ‘Don’t make me spank you,’ he says seriously. I wriggle a little, missing the delicious warmth that his spankings leave behind.
‘You have an arse fetish,’ I say coolly, holding back my grin.
Becker doesn’t. He gives me a blinding, adorable, cheeky smile and slides his hands onto my bottom, squeezing gently for a few teasing seconds, watching me. Then his hands leave my skin and I suck in breath, holding it, waiting. And damn if I don’t lift a little, giving him better access, inviting him.
Slap!
Both hands come down hard, knocking me forward a little. ‘Only a fetish for your arse, princess.’
My hands plant into his pecs, bracing myself, and my hair falls forward onto his chest as I breathe through the discomfort. ‘Holy shit,’ I whisper brokenly.
He performs a calculated swivel of his groin and takes the tops of my arms, pulling me down to him. ‘What else do you feel?’ he asks.
‘Like my backside’s on fire.’
‘Shhhh . . .’ His pouting lips nearly touch mine, the low sound of his sexy shush sending a flurry of tingles down to my toes. ‘Tell me how you feel about me,’ he pushes.
‘Right now, I want to slap you.’
‘I feel like that about you all the time.’ Becker’s grip of my arms clamps down some more, encouraging me to spill. His eyes are close to mine, curiosity on hesitation. I’m holding back – a crazy thing to do given where we’ve found ourselves this morning. All of the confessions, the revelations, the feelings. ‘I feel light,’ I say again, but this time he doesn’t make any sarcastic wisecrack. He just holds me suspended above him by the tops of my arms, my hair spilling around his head, forming a kind of private veil around us. ‘Like I’m floating.’
He holds onto his smile, keeping it back, but his angel eyes are firing off sparks of happiness. ‘Go on,’ he prompts, desperate for more. It’s all reassurance to him, like I’m confirming what he’s feeling himself. That it’s okay to love me.
‘I feel like I’m lost in a maze,’ I whisper, my gaze falling to his lips, seeing them parted and wet, full and ready to taste. ‘And I have no desire to find my way out.’ I look up at him when I hear a tiny hitch of his breath, seeing his eyes have glazed slightly. He gets it. He knows just how I feel.
‘Like every corner you turn is a surprise?’ he murmurs, swallowing. ‘Like you can’t figure out if each step is an exciting stumble or a petrifying stagger?’
I bite my bottom lip. Yes, that’s exactly it.
‘Like,’ he blinks slowly, keeping his eyes shut for a few moments, before dragging them open and flexing his fingers, releasing me a little before squeezing, as if to reinforce his point. ‘Like none of that shit matters as long as you’re stumbling and staggering with me?’
I’m done. I can’t hold back any more. The lump in my throat swells and chokes me, and a drop of my emotions trickles down my cheek. It’s relief, and I nod, unable to speak through the bulge that’s blocking my throat. This is everything. This is acceptance, and it looks good on him. He smiles, a true happy smile, and releases my arms, letting me fall onto his chest.
‘Me too, princess.’ He pushes his mouth to my ear, kissing me hard and squeezing me until I think my bones might crumble under his power. ‘Me too.’
My cheek rests on his shoulder, my upper arms sprawled above, encasing his head. I feel small in his hold. Safe in his hold. I shouldn’t entrust my heart to this man, but the fact that he’s entrusting his to me makes this even ground. And now I’m trusting him to protect me from his debasing world.
‘Eleanor?’ he says, turning his face into my neck and breathing in. I hum, and he goes on. ‘Will you be my girlfriend?’
I feel his grin stretch against my neck, and, I swear, I smile the widest I ever have. ‘I will.’
‘And Eleanor?’
I hum again, and this time he pulls himself free from my neck and gazes at me. ‘I love you.’ His voice is barely a murmur, hardly heard.
But it’s the loudest thing that anyone has ever said to me.
