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I move faster. Kiss him harder. Kiss him with everything I have.
He pulls back with a heavy sigh. Drags his fingertips down my stomach. Does away with my tank top.
My hands go to the back of my bra. I start to unhook it, but my fingers freeze.
This is our third time being here, but it still feels new.
It’s still terrifying.
Slowly, I slide my bra off one shoulder, then the other.
His eyes go wide as he takes me in.
His soft, low groan erases every doubt in my head.
In his eyes, I'm not weird or broken or pieced together.
I'm whole.
He brings his hands to my lower back. Pulls both of us up the bed. Straightens us.
He lies down, his head on his pillow, his back against the sheets.
His hands find my chest. He cups my breasts softly.
Not like they're strange and foreign.
Like he's reveling in the feel of them.
One hand plants between my shoulder-blades.
He pulls my body into his. Until my chest is against his mouth.
When his lips close around my nipple, I feel it.
The line between my body and soul dissolves.
I am my body.
I'm the tight feeling in my nipples, the ache between my legs, the pounding of my heart.
The last hint of tension in my shoulders melts.
The day fades away.
The future fades away.
Everything else fades away.
It's just me and Dean and all this bliss.
He strips me out of my jeans then presses his palm against me, over my panties.
I rock my hips, grinding against his fingers, reveling in the friction of the soft fabric.
It feels good, but it's not enough.
I need him inside me.
