I kiss her again — slower, on purpose, because she just put her hand on my heart and that needs a second — and then I’m sliding my hand down between us. Get her leggings off. My hand under the waistband, into her underwear, two fingers sliding along her clit.
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
She’s so wet, and that does something to me I don’t know how to manage.
She gasps when I touch her. My fingers slip into her opening and she rocks against my hand and her teeth go into my shoulder.
“Jax.”
“Yeah.”
“Jax.”
“I got you.”
Her hand comes between us. Palms me through my jeans.
Hard.
The whole length of me — her hand is hot and steady pulling a moan from me.
She undoes my button.
Zipper.
The pressure releases and I exhale.
Her hand goes inside. Wraps around my cock. So tight and slow, base to tip, and I have to put my forehead against hers and breathe.
“Jesus, Nova.”
“I know.”
“I want—”
“Yes.”
She squeezes me again.
I lose what I was about to say.
I get her pants the rest of the way off.
She’s bare in my kitchen in just her thong and the only light is the lamp by the door and the moonlight coming through the window.
Her skin is silver and warm at the same time and she has one hand at the back of my neck and the other working me slow, like she has all the time in the world.
I don’t have all the time in the world.
I’m going to come if she keeps doing that and I’m not coming in my kitchen at three AM into her hand. Not tonight.
I slide her hand off me.
She makes a small noise of protest.
“My turn first,” I say.
