The kiss deepened slowly, like he was taking his time with it, like he already knew I wasn’t about to pull away. My fingers curled into his shirt, gripping onto him as my body leaned into his without me even thinking about it.
He pulled me closer, his hand sliding up my back, pressing me against him until there was no space left between us. I could feel the heat off him, the steady rise of his chest against mine, and it had my breathing all off. And the crazy part? I ain’t even try to stop it. He picked me up with his good arm and placed me on the counter, where he slid between my legs.
His hand gripped my hip. Hard.
Not rough, but firm enough that I felt it everywhere—like he was making sure I wasn't going nowhere. And I wasn't. I couldn't even if I wanted to.
The counter was cold against my thighs, solid behind my back, but all I could focus on was him. The heat coming off his body. The way his chest rose and fell against mine. The way his hand slid under my shirt, fingers pressing into my skin like he was memorizing the feel of me.
“You good?” he asked, voice low.
“I'm good,” I breathed out.
His eyes locked on mine for a second longer, reading me, making sure. Then, his hand moved again, pulling my shirt up and over my head in one smooth motion. He tossed it somewhere I didn't even see.
The air hit my skin, but I barely registered it because his mouth was already on me. My neck. My collarbone. Lower.
My head fell back, my hands finding his shoulders, gripping him because I needed something to hold onto.
His hand slid down, fingers hooking into the waistband of my pants, and I lifted my hips without him even asking. He pulled them off, let them drop to the floor, and then his hand was back on my hip, pulling me closer to the edge of the counter.
Closer to him.
“Look at me,” he said.
I did.
And the way he was looking at me? Like he'd been waiting for this. Like he already knew how this was gon' end.
He kissed me again, deeper this time, his hand sliding between my thighs, and I gasped against his mouth. My body reacted before my mind could catch up—hips shifting, legs spreading wider, giving him exactly what he wanted.
What I wanted.
His fingers moved slowly at first, testing, reading every reaction. And I gave him plenty. My breathing picked up. My grip on his shoulders tightened. My whole body leaned into him like I couldn't get close enough.
“Kyrie—”
“I know,” he murmured against my lips. “I got you.”
And he did.
His fingers worked me until I was shaking, until sounds I didn't even recognize were slipping out of me. Until I was so close I could barely breathe.
Then he pulled back.
I almost protested, but then I heard the sound of his belt, the rustle of fabric, and my heart kicked up even harder.
He positioned himself between my legs, his hand gripping my hip again, holding me steady. His eyes met mine one more time.
“You sure?”
I nodded.
“Say it.”
“I'm sure.”
That was all he needed.
