“Yes, for you. And for the kids.”
My throat feels like there’s a lump in it.
“There are details we need to figure out,” she adds. “Logistics. Timing. Pretty much everything.”
“Right.” I nod.
“But I think we should move forward.”
Something settles in my chest that feels a lot like relief.
“Okay,” I say softly.
She shifts closer, closing the space between us, and then she kisses me.
It’s not rushed or frantic. More like intentional.
My hand slides to her waist instinctively, pulling her in even closer as I deepen the kiss. Not out of urgency, but out of something that’s been building for a long time. Like the rubber band finally snaps.
I don’t want to rush this. The last two times we were together, intimately, were too quick. I didn’t get to take my time with her the way I want to now.
Her fingers trace along my arm, my shoulder, grounding me in a way nothing else has since my sister’s death. And for the first time in weeks, I don’t feel like I’m holding everything together by sheer force. I just feel her.
Like, there’s a real possibility of something more than survival.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Presley
The pure need I feel for this man right now is strong. I feel every touch, every inch of his body pressed against mine.
I lift up and straddle him, my knees digging into the mattress on either side of his hips as I settle my pussy directly over his thick erection.
My hands rest flat against the broad expanse of his chest, my fingers splayed over his skin, catching the steady beat of his heart. It’s powerful and grounding, and I know without a doubt that I’m not just looking for instant relief. I’m looking for him. The connection we share.
“I want to take this slow,” I whisper, the words vibrating in the small space between us.
“We’re in no rush tonight. It’s just you and me,” he says, voice gravelly.
I lean down to kiss him and slide my tongue into his mouth. He grabs the back of my head, holding me in place, like he wants to keep me there forever.
I move over him, a deliberate, agonizingly shallow tilt of my hips, which draws a low, jagged growl from deep in his throat.I want to feel every shift of muscle beneath me, the way they tighten in response to my body.
His hands come up, but they don’t grab me with frantic energy. Instead, his palms settle on my waist, like he’s using it as an anchor. His fingers dig in just enough to leave a branding of heat on my skin, the calluses a delicious, rough contrast to the slick friction where we’re joined.
I’m completely soaked, and I have no doubt that if I looked, he would have a wet mark on his boxers from me.
I lean forward, letting my hair fall like a curtain around our faces, creating a world that exists for only us. I break the kiss and rest my forehead against his, breathing him in—his warm skin, the scent of soap, and that intoxicating musky spice that belongs only to him. The air between our lips is electric, humming with a tension so taut that it feels like it might snap if I move too fast.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against my lips. His voice has a low vibration that I swear travels straight through my body and right to my pussy.
He reaches up, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw with a reverence that makes my breath hitch. His hand moves back to the nape of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair to gently tilt my head back, but only enough to graze his lips against mine, teasing. It’s not quite a kiss, but something that feels far more intimate. I can feel the heat radiating from him, a mounting pressure that makes my stomach flip and my thighs ache with sweet need.
“Saint,” I whisper, “I need to feel you inside me.”
“You can have all of me, Presley. Take it all,” he says before plunging his tongue into my mouth, like he can’t get enough of my taste. He sucks, twirls his tongue with mine, and nips my bottom lip.
I sit up and pull my shirt off and toss it to the floor.
