Page 118 of Whispered Promises

“You just layer the thin slices across the top.”

“In rows?”

“No, a spiral will work.” He grins, eyes crinkling. I know he must think I’m stupid, but I really don’t want to mess this up.

“Okay…”

Hesitantly, I pick up a few potato slices and hover them over the dish.

Heat warms my back. “Here,” Bry says, leaning around me and pointing where to place the first slice.

Following his guidance, I continue to place the rest of them, and with each one, my body leans more into his. The feel of his chest through my back, his voice sending soft vibrations through me, is distracting.

Whilst things have progressed with Noah and Nate a bit more than my relationship has with Bry, I haven’t felt impatient until now. I’ve enjoyed our slower pace; he’s been so sweet in wanting to get to know me, that it’s felt almost sensual. I haven’t much previous experience to go on, with most past interests not going beyond a few dates, but dating Bry feels akin to a long, languid caress. He’s taking the time to explore me before needing more.

Except apparently, I’m the one now feeling greedy, feverishly wanting to speed things up.

Bry’s quick intake of breath pulls me out of my heated thoughts, and I freeze when I realise I’ve been rubbing myself against him.

“Shit, I didn’t mean to…ooh.” My eyes roll as his mouth finds my ear, his teeth tugging on the shell.

“It’s hard to concentrate when you feel so good against me,” he groans, his breath sending a shiver down my spine.

“I could say the same to you,” I reply, pushing my hips back again.

Something hard and solid grinds into my lower back.

Oh.

“Let me get this in the oven, then we’ll have some time to…explore before it’s done.”

He squeezes my hip, then the warmth of him fades. He slides the dish into the oven, then grabs my hand and tugs me to his room.

Before we enter, he stops. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to. We can go in, chat, snuggle…”

Not wanting him to doubt anything, I rose to my toes and steal his words. Lips pressed together, I melt into his touch. His hands slide through the strands of my hair, cupping the back of my head, and when he tugs lightly, my hands fist the fabric of his shirt.

“Too much?” he asks, pausing our kiss, a crease prominent between his brows.

“Definitely not.” One hand tugs free, and I fumble for the door handle, pushing it open.

He kisses me again, arms coming around and lifting me. I wrap my legs around his waist, deepening our kiss until it becomes hurried and messy.

He drops me onto his bed; it’s big and soft, and the sheets might be blue or black. I can’t even focus enough to figure it out. Bry stands above me, his hands shaking as he stares down at me.

“I want this,” I tell him, needing him to know that I don’t want us to hold back anything with each other. He’s allowed me to see the raw, vulnerable parts of him, and I don’t want him hesitating now.

“It doesn’t feel like you’re real,” he confesses, and before I can reply, he drops to his knees between my thighs. Hot hands slide up my legs and over my pelvis, then make quick work of removing my apron. At my nod, he removes my T-shirt and leggings, leaving me lying in only my underwear.

When I reach out to undress him, he lets me, closing his eyes as I take my time caressing his exposed body.

He’s…more toned than I anticipated.

Along his shoulders and arms, the muscles are firm, with scatterings of strawberry-blonde hair. He’s perfectly broad without being too bulky. I stroke down his chest and across the softer muscles on his stomach, then trace the light trail of hair leading down to his underwear.

Bry pushes me onto my back, following me down. Fingers skate along the sensitive skin of my sides, the touch light yet deliberate. As his hands move lower, gliding down my hips to circle inside my thighs, my breath hitches at the teasing, skilled touches.

“Rosy, I wanted this to go slower. To take more time…”