Page 62 of My Unfinished Heart

With my hand behind his neck, I lean into him. I hear the catch of his breath. My heart leaps—stops, then starts again with a wild thump.

I touch my mouth to his, parting his lips with mine. Our tongues meet, his warm and waiting for me.

His kiss engulfs me. It swallows me up. It pulls me under.

My fingers play at the hem of his shirt—not hesitant but entreating. His whispered word is “Yes.”

I take it off, pulling it over his strong arms, and I lay him back down. He watches with rapt attention the way my eyes drag across his gorgeous skin, snagging on those nipple rings. I kiss his stomach and the firm swell of his pecs. I lick past one of the nipple piercings before finding his mouth again. His body arches beneath me. Toward me.

My hands meet his hips and the waistband of his pants. “We can’t do everything,” I say.

“Don’t say ‘can’t’. Take them off,” he says.

He’s still only wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt, having hastily dressed when I was falling off his tree.

Though I’m hesitating, he’s not. I groan as his fingers slide behind the button of my shorts. He’s undoing them—me—and as much as this may be a huge mistake, I don’t want him to have one moment of doubt about the way I feel. I do want all of him. Every inch, every word, every breath he takes. All his worries and hopes, his dreams and fears—all his promises.

I stop holding back. There’s no point. I meet his mouth with greater force, aware of the quickening of his breath as he pushes my shorts past my hips, moving them down my legs with his feet. When they’re off, I pay back the gesture, sliding his off to reveal the most beautiful body. God, he’s so fucking perfect.

And he’s so hard. Wet at the tip and flushed a deep pink, even his cock is beautiful. Perfectly thick and standing tall. My mouth waters, and I lower myself between his opening thighs.

“Oh, God. Archer.” His fingers slide through my hair, and I glance up at him. His lips are parted, eyes hooded with unrestrained desire as he pants from how real this just got.

ELEVEN

The Gordian Knot

“This is what you want?” he asks as his cock jumps, the tip only an inch from my lips.

I want a lot of things. I want to taste him. I want to make him feel better than anyone’s ever made him feel in his life. I want to know what sounds I can draw out of him, and more than anything I want him to remember us like this.

“Yeah,” I say simply. Too simply.

“I can’t—I’ve never—I won’t last.”

“Wanna find out?” I ask. “I won’t judge you if you don’t judge me.”

He nods. “Okay.”

Running my nose up the side of his shaft, I inhale deeply of his sweet musk. I swear, I’ve dreamed this scent. Closing my eyes, I wrap my lips around the sticky head and lick my way around it.

His hand grips the hair at the back of my head. Not pulling. Just hanging on. “Mmmph…fuck.”

His hips writhe as I suck his length into my mouth, my own moan working its way through my chest as the flavor of him explodes on my tongue. Tangy and sweet. His hard, silken length is heaven between my lips. I swear I was made for this. Exactly this. Exactly him.

I suck him slowly. As much as he doesn’t want to come too soon, I don’t either. I want to take these hours we have and stretch them beyond time. I find his other hand and thread my fingers through his. He holds our formed fist in the center of his chest where I can feel how hard he’s breathing and the rapid beat of his heart. My other hand is open against his inner thigh, my thumb slowly stroking the crease where it meets his groin.

“I got—I got—oh shit,” he bites out as I suck hard up his length. I look up at him, wanting him to finish what he was saying.

With his cock no longer in my mouth, he sputters out, “Lube. When I called the front desk. I have everything.”

“What?”

He gives my hair a soft pull. “Come here.”

I drag myself over his body, and he meets my mouth with a slow, deep kiss. I lower onto him, feeling all his nakedness meeting mine. It’s one of life’s small miracles that we get to have this. For all the emotional bullshit we have to wade through, sometimes we get to press our bare flesh together and feel the best things a human body is capable of feeling. And kissing? I don’t deserve Tristan’s kiss. His lips are beautiful, I’ll grant that, and I set a high bar with all my expectations and over-romanticizing of our connection, but he’s already soared straight past all that. He’s blowing me away.

With his hand on my face, he’s devouring me. His tongue is a force of nature, and if I had any lingering doubt about whether he wants me, the way he kisses me puts them all to rest.