“Yeah,oh,” he teases as the air hums between us. He takes a slow step closer, close enough that I can smell the faint trace of his cologne from this morning. “Now, can I kiss you or what?”
My breath hitches. The question shouldn’t undo me like this, but after three months, it does. “Please.”
His thumb brushes under my jaw to tilt my face up to meet his lips. The kiss starts as a tentative question, but when I melt into him, my fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt, it deepens.
Months of wanting and heartache and love pouring into his mouth.
My fingers slide up into his hair, tugging. Against mymouth, he groans while the hand on my waist drifts lower, down to my ass, where he squeezes, firm and possessive. The shock of it sends a shiver straight through me, an involuntary whimper escaping my throat.
Instead of carrying on like I want him to, he pulls back instantly, concern furrowing his brows as he searches my face. “I’m sorry, Darlin’, I didn’t mean to overstep—”
“I want you,” I blurt out, before my brain can catch up with what I’m saying.
“What?” he asks, stunned, like he’s not sure he actually heard me.
Heat rushes to my face, but I repeat it anyway, because it’s the truth. “I want you. I want to be with you.”
For far too long, he stares, long enough to make me squirm with the thought that he doesn’t want the same thing. That I’m rushing after so long apart.
But then he huffs, disbelieving, and shakes his head. “Careful, Darlin’. You say things like that, and I might think you mean ’em.”
“I do,” I say, surprised by how certain I sound. “I mean it.”
The teasing smile melts away as I reach for his hand. His fingers close around mine, warm and solid as I turn toward the hallway, tugging gently. “Come on.”
He follows without hesitation.
My apartment feels impossibly quiet. Every footstep, every inhale, too loud as the reality of what I asked for sits heavy on my heart. I want it more than anything, but to get there I’ll have to—
Nate squeezes my hand as we walk into my bedroom, getting my attention. “You sure about this?”
I look back at him, and even though I’m terrified, I can’t say no. This is the man who stood by me through everything. And despite my insecurities, I’ve never been more sure about anything.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
He nods, but I don’t know if he believes me yet. “You nervous?”
“No,” I lie, and he raises a brow, knowing exactly how full of it I am.
His hands settle at my waist, big and warm. “Hey,” he says, tilting his head. “You don’t gotta pretend. We’ll take it real slow, and if you ever want to stop—”
I reach for his shirt, fisting the fabric and pulling him down to my lips before he can finish that sentence. The more I think, the more anxious I’ll be. He kisses me again, slower this time, less urgency.
When his hands move to the hem of my top, he pauses until I nod my consent.
The cotton slides over my skin, landing on the floor, and when I look up, he’s tugging his own shirt over his head. It’s not the first time I’ve seen him shirtless, but it’s the first time I’ve really looked and—
Wow,is all I can think.
He’s solid muscle, lit by the glow from my bedside lamp. Broad chest, firm stomach, freckles on his shoulders.
He’shot.
A smirk appears on his face when he catches me staring. “Like what you see?”
“Shut up, you know you look good,” I mutter, too breathless for it to have any real bite.
He leans in, his mouth brushing my ear. “Now is that anyway to talk to somebody you want to fuck you?” His hands slide around my waist, tugging me into him.
