Then his hands slide up my back to the clasp of my bra and the second ends.
His henley follows, and then it’s skin against skin—the heat of his chest searing into me—and I feel it then, the thing I couldn’t have anticipated: his hands are slightly unsteady. Never hesitant with me. But trembling at the edges with something that isn’t nerves.
It’s restraint. He’s fighting to go slow when everything in him wants to sprint.
That undoes me more than anything else could.
“Damn.” His mouth drops to my throat, my collarbone, lower. He tugs my bra down with impatient hands, and the second my breasts spill free, his mouth closes over one nipple, sucking hard before soothing it with slow, lazy circles of his tongue.
Then he says my name.
Just my name. Not baby. Not you. Gisele—rough and emotion-filled, face pressed against my skin like he needs to say it out loud to confirm this is real.
It cracks something open in my chest that I don’t think is going to close again.
“These perfect fucking tits.” He switches sides, lavishing the same attention on the other peak, his free hand kneading and rolling until I’m arching into his mouth. “I’ve dreamed about them for years. Thought about sucking on them until you were begging.”
His free hand slides down my side, gripping my hip, pulling me tighter against the hard ridge of him straining behind his jeans.
“Bennett,” I moan, rolling my hips against him.
He lifts his head, eyes blazing. “Yeah, baby? You feel how hard I am for you?” He grinds against me. “That’s what you do to me. Every single time I see you. Running around Sorrowville with a semi, praying that Shep doesn’t notice and start running his mouth.”
His lips find mine again while his hand slips between us, cupping me over my jeans. He rubs the seam against my clit with firm, devastating pressure, and I whimper into his mouth.
“That’s it,” he says, voice dropping low. “Let me feel how wet you are. Been dying to get my hands on you. Been dying to tasteyou. To be inside you. To make you come so many times you forget your own name and only remember mine.”
He kisses me again while his fingers work me through my jeans, and I’m already half out of my mind, because this is Bennett, and his hands are on me, and twelve years of wanting is a lot of wanting to finally have somewhere to go.
Bennett hooks his fingers into the waistband of my jeans and pauses, eyes locked on mine.
I lift my hips without a word.
He drags my jeans and underwear down together, like he’s unwrapping something he’s been afraid to want for a very long time. When the fabric clears my ankles and drops to the floor, he spreads my thighs with both hands and just—looks.
I peek down at him.
And my heart does something catastrophic.
Bennett Foster, on his knees in front of me, looking at me like I’ve handed him something he stopped believing he’d ever have. The hunger in his eyes and the amazement underneath it—both completely real, both completely him, both aimed directly at me.
“Jesus Christ, Gisele,” he breathes, voice rough with awe. His thumbs stroke the soft skin of my inner thighs, inching higher. “Look at you. So pretty and pink and already slick for me.”
He parts me gently with careful fingers, and the sound that escapes him is low and guttural and undone.
“Fuck, baby. You’re dripping.” His thumb traces me slowly, spreading my wetness. “This is all for me?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “Always.”
He groans and presses one thick finger inside me slowly, watching it disappear. The stretch is perfect, and the way his eyes flutter half-closed makes my breath stutter.
“So tight,” he says. “So hot. So fucking perfect.” He adds a second finger, curling them just right, stroking the spot inside me that makes my toes curl. His thumb finds my clit and circleswith devastating patience. “I’ve thought about this so many times. How you’d feel. How you’d sound.”
He looks up at me then, fingers still moving, and his expression stops me completely. Not just the hunger—I expected the hunger. The wonder. Like he’s been running toward this moment and can’t quite believe he’s arrived.
I reach down and touch his face.
He turns his head and presses his lips to my palm.
