“Logan King.” Her voice is steady even if her hands aren’t. “I’ve been waiting since I was nineteen. Longer considering my crush on you. Tonight is the right time.”
Thank God.
I carry her down the hall, something I’ve imagined doing since the summer she left for Seattle. In the bedroom, I set her on her feet and cup her face in both hands. “Tell me what you want.”
“You,” she whispers. “But… can we go slow?”
“Yeah, baby. We can go as slow as you need.”
I kiss her, loving how she melts into me. Then I trail my mouth along her jaw and down her neck to the spot where her pulse jumps under my lips. She moans, soft and surprised, and I file that spot away, committing every reaction to memory.
My fingers find the buttons of her shirt. One by one, I undo them, watching her face. She doesn’t stop me. The fabric parts, revealing smooth skin and a simple bra. I push the shirt off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.
“Beautiful.” My hand slides over the soft curve of her stomach. “I’ve wanted you for so damn long, Sophie.”
She sucks in a shaky breath. “Before we do this… I should tell you something.”
I still, searching her face.
“I’ve never done this before.”
The words hit me like a quiet thunderclap. Twenty-eight. Gorgeous. Funny. Strong. And she waited… for me.
“Sophie…” I raise her hand to my mouth and kiss each knuckle. “I’ll make it good for you. I promise. We do this your way. You say stop, we stop.”
“I don’t want to stop. I want you to keep going.”
I do, but I take it slow, worshipping every inch of her like she deserves.
I kiss along her collarbone, the hollow of her throat, then reach behind her and unhook her bra. It slides down her arms. Full, soft breasts, the gentle dip of her waist, the freckle under her ribs. Every inch of her is better than any dream I’ve had. My hands tremble slightly as I touch her, reverent and careful.
“You’re gorgeous,” I say.
She laughs a little, breathless. “When I said slow, I didn’t mean glacial.”
I grin and ease her back onto the bed. I peel her jeans and plain white panties down her legs. She lifts her hips to help, trusting me. The sight of her bare and open for me makes my chest tighten.
I kneel between her thighs. “Still okay?”
“Yes.”
I taste her, sweet and addictive. She gasps when my tongue finds her clit. I keep every stroke slow and gentle, learning what makes her breath hitch and what makes her fingers slide into my hair and tug. When her hips roll, I add one finger, then two, moving carefully, enjoying every sound she makes.
“Logan…” Her voice breaks.
“I’ve got you. Let go whenever you’re ready.”
She comes with my name on her lips, thighs trembling around my shoulders, and her back arching off the bed. I stay with her through every pulse, kissing her hip, her stomach, her breasts, until she’s breathing again, her body soft and pliant under my hands.
Sophie looks at me like I’ve rewritten her world.
I brush damp hair off her forehead. “Still with me?”
“More,” she whispers. “Please.”
I grab a condom from the nightstand and roll it on while she watches, her eyes dark with want. Then I settle over her, bracing my weight on my elbows so I can stay close. “Tell me if it hurts or if you need to stop. Anytime.”
She nods, her lips parted.
