“I—” My words catch in my throat as her teeth graze a particularly sensitive spot. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
She pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, her expression a mix of desire and determination. “Then be careful,” she whispers, taking my hand and guiding it to her waist. “But don’t stop.”
That’s all the permission I need. Something shifts inside me—a barrier breaking, restraint crumbling. I spin us around, pressing her gently against the door instead, mindful of her injured shoulder. My movements are careful but deliberate as I pin her there with my hips.
“Like this?” I ask, letting my tone drop to that lower register that clearly gets a reaction. The look on her face—pupils blown wide, lips parted—tells me I’ve hit the mark.
“Exactly like that,” she breathes, her good hand sliding into my hair.
I capture her mouth again, kissing her deeply while my fingers find the hem of her shirt, tracing the warm skin beneath. She shivers against me, making a small sound in the back of her throat that unravels something in my chest.
“Bed,” she mumbles against my lips. “We both know that Lucas will be back much sooner than we’d like, and I will tolerate him far better post-orgasm.”
The word “bed” short-circuits my brain entirely. I stare at her, momentarily frozen as my thoughts scatter like papers in a windstorm. Her directness about what she wants—about sex—leaves me completely unmoored. I’ve never been with someone so straightforward, so unapologetically clear about their desires.
I manage a nod and step aside. She catches my hand as she moves past, guiding me toward the bed. When we reach it, she turns back to me, her expression lit with quiet amusement.
“Are you okay?” she asks, reaching up to touch my cheek. “You look like you’re having a stroke.”
“I’m fine,” I say automatically, though my voice comes out strangled.
Her eyebrows lift as understanding dawns. “Oh my god. Am I freaking you out?” A new thought seems to strike her. “Wait, you’re not a virgin, are you?”
“What? No!” I feel heat flood my face. “God, no. I’ve had partners. It’s just?—”
“Just what?” she prompts, looking genuinely curious now.
I run a hand through my hair, trying to organize my thoughts. “Shouldn’t we talk about, you know, the pre-sex stuff first? I know we’ve done other things, but this seems likesomething we should discuss first before taking it a step farther. Birth control, sexual history?”
Lila laughs, the sound warm and affectionate rather than mocking. “Look at you, being all responsible.” She sits on the edge of the bed, pulling me down beside her. Lila gives me a look that’s half amusement, half disbelief. “You really want to have the safe sex talk right now?”
“It’s important,” I insist, though my body is screaming at me to shut up and get back to kissing her.
She rolls her eyes, but there’s fondness in it. “Fine. I’m clean, I have an IUD, and you’d have to actually have sex in the last five years to be worried about catching something.”
I clear my throat, feeling my face heat up again. “I’m clean too. I had a vasectomy a few years ago, and same on the partner front.”
She looks genuinely surprised. “Why did you have a vasectomy?”
“Personal choice. I never wanted children. The procedure is safer than female options, so...” I trail off, suddenly feeling like I’ve overshared.
Lila studies me for a long moment, then breaks into a grin. “So what you’re saying is, we don’t need to worry about condoms.”
“Well, I—that’s not why I mentioned it.”
“Sure it wasn’t.” She laughs again, and it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve heard in days.
I reach for her hand, intertwining our fingers. “So. No condoms needed, unless you’d prefer?—”
“Nope, we’re good,” she interrupts, her voice dropping to that husky tone that makes my pulse quicken. “Now can we please stop talking and get naked? My shoulder’s killing me, and I’d really like you to distract me.”
I’m still processing the abrupt shift when her mouth finds mine again, hot and insistent. My hands hover uncertainly at her waist, worried about her injuries.
“You can touch me,” she murmurs against my lips. “I won’t break.”
“Your shoulder?—”
“Will be fine if you don’t grab it directly.” She takes my hand and guides it under her shirt, pressing my palm against the warm skin of her stomach. “There are plenty of places that aren’t injured and plenty of positions, too.”
