The first contact made us both go still.
“Color?”
“Green.”
“Ready?”
“Yes.”
I pressed forward slowly.
His body resisted.
I stopped before entering.
“Breathe.”
He did.
Once.
Again.
His hand found mine across his chest, and our fingers threaded together.
“Try again.”
I pressed.
This time his body opened.
The first inch entered.
Noah’s breath broke.
I froze.
“Pain?”
“Two.”
“Sharp?”
“No.”
“Stay or withdraw?”
“Stay.”
I remained completely still.
His muscles tightened around me.
Then, gradually, began to release.
“More,” he whispered.
I moved deeper by a fraction.
