“No.”
His eyes came back to mine, and the hunger softened into something devastating. “Thank you for letting me.”
That almost undid me.
I kissed him before I could cry again.
He made a sound against my mouth and crossed to the bed, lowering me onto the mattress with a care that made the need worse. His body followed mine down, heavy enough to make me feel him everywhere, controlled enough that I knew he was still thinking, still holding something back for me.
I didn’t want anything held back.
My hands went to the hem of his hoodie, tugging. “This needs to go.”
He pushed up on one arm. “Bossy.”
“Wet.”
“Also fair.”
He sat back long enough to drag the hoodie over his head, and his shirt came with it for a second, revealing a hard strip of stomach and the V of muscle disappearing beneath his jeans before he yanked them both off. His hair was wrecked, his mouth swollen from mine, and the look he gave me from between my knees made every thought I had scatter.
I reached for him.
He caught my hand and kissed my knuckles.
Slowly.
One by one.
Then he leaned over me again, bracing his weight on one forearm while his other hand slid into my hair, careful with my braids, his thumb moving along my temple.
“I meant it,” he said.
My breathing was already uneven. “Which part?”
“All of it.”
“That’s a lot of parts.”
“I’m a complicated man.”
“You’re a dramatic man.”
His mouth brushed mine. “That too.”
I smiled into the kiss, and he felt it. I knew he did because he went still for half a second, like my smile against his mouth was something he had missed more than he wanted to admit.
Then he kissed me like he couldn’t stand the distance anymore.
His hand moved from my hair to my waist, pushing under my sweatshirt just enough for his palm to find skin. The contact was warm and rough and familiar, and I arched into it with no pride at all. He groaned into my mouth, fingers spreading against my ribs as if he had to remind himself I was real.
My hands slid over his shoulders and down his back, his muscles jumping beneath my palms.
“Aura,” he said, voice thick.
“Don’t stop.”
“I’m not stopping.” His mouth moved to my cheek, my jaw, the corner of my mouth again, like he couldn’t decide where he needed to be most. “I’m just trying not to rush you.”
