Just want you closer.
Just want you inside me.
Just want you.
The words catch in my throat.
“Come here,” I manage in a whisper.
Kingston nods. He rises to his feet and, swiftly, gracefully, reaches for the hem of his T-shirt and slides it over his head.
He is…
My throat goes dry all over again.
Broad shoulders, smooth muscles, narrow waist. An athlete’s body, all discipline and good genes.
All here for…me.
My eyes must be wide, because Kingston cups my cheek and turns me to him as he settles over me on the bed.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into my ear, stroking his thumb over my skin. “I just want to…feel you.”
“Mhm.” Barely a word. Clear enough. His fingers find the edge of my sweater, and all I can do is nod, speechless,thoughtless, as he pushes it up and off of me, lowering his lips to my collarbone as he does.
He kisses me there. And then on my neck, my jaw, my mouth and then my mouth again, and again, and then back to my neck, the front of my throat, the smooth hollow of my sternum. A hand asserts itself under me—fumbling for the clasp of my bra—and the faint clumsiness of it has me biting my lip against a smile.
“Here. I’ll—” I pull my shoulders back and reach around to undo it, and Kingston threads the straps around his fingers and pulls the thing away, throwing it somewhere off the bed with uncharacteristic abandon.
He bends his head and takes the peak of my breast into his mouth, so fast I barely register what’s happening. But the pull, the pressure, the swirl of his tongue and the little scrape of his teeth on my nipple makes me gasp again, arch underneath him. And when I do, I feel something hard, very hard, against my outer hip.
I close my eyes. Press my lips together. And shift my legs so I’m grinding faintly against him.
I feel Kingston’s lips slacken around me as he lets out a moan.
God, that sound. Like he’s been holding onto it for years.It’s not fair, it’s notrightthat someone who can make sounds like that should be kept from sex for any extended period of time, I think, hazy half-amused. He hums around my now-aching nipple one last time and lifts his head to mine, replacing his mouth with his hand.
“You’re just…” He brushes his fingertips over my flesh, sending a flutter all the way down to my stomach. Lower.
I give my head a little shake—please, no words, no talking, not now—and pull for him to kiss me, which he does, deeply and intently, his length pressing all the more urgently against my leg as his body covers mine. I find his waistband, push it away, and he bends back to shuck off his pants, kissing me all the while. His left hand moves to my hip, pulling me that last inch or two closer, and I am all but panting into his mouth when he nudges his way between my hips.
Yes. Please. Now.
And yet as badly as my body is screaming for him to slam into me…
Kingston stills. “Something wrong?”
It is hard to concentrate, hard to think straight or thinkat allwhen I can feel the firm heat of his erection pressing against my thigh like that, but I force myself to. I shake my head, put my hands on the nape of his neck, and guide him back from me so I can see into his eyes.
Those warm, golden eyes.
“I just wanted to…make sure you’re sure,” I say. “That you really want to do this. No going back.”
My throat is suddenly thick.God. I am not going tocrywhen I am naked in Kingston’s bed.I swallow it away.
He smooths a strand of hair out of my face.
“I’m sure,” he murmurs. “I have nowhere to go that isn’t with you.”
