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His hand finds my chin just as my fingers curl around the collar of that glorious sweater. Our lips clash hard and frantic as if neither of us is sure if this is really happening, then slow as we both realize it very much is.

I groan a little as his tongue strokes mine. Then again, he reaches for my hips and lifts me onto his lap. I am half bewildered by all these new angles. My knees astride his hard thighs, my hands, which are now free to explore the planes of his body; the rest of me is absorbed in this kiss and the way that he cradles my chin so carefully and then kisses me hard like he can’t get enough. But it’s me that can’t get enough. I rock my knees forward, pressing my breasts against his chest and finding him hard and ready under his sweatpants.

“Fuck, Annalise.” His voice sounds pained as his hands find my hips, and he lifts me just far enough back that there’s no longer friction between us.

“I have been waiting a very long time for this,” he says between kisses. “But I don’t want to rush. We have all night.”

With that, he plants a kiss on my neck, just below my earlobe. Then he drags his lips to my collarbone, where he licks then kisses the tiny dip.

I very badly want to push his hands away and grind against him, finding that beautiful friction, but instead, I focus on his hands, which have traveled to the small of my back, fingers grazing the waistband of my jeans before sliding under the hem of my hoodie, where they become trapped in the folds of fabric.

“Can I take this off?” He waits for me to nod, then pulls the hem over my head, leaving me in a thin white tank top.

“Fuck,” he swears again as his hands palm my breasts, his thumbs finding the peaks of my nipples, hard and stiff beneath the thin fabric.

“I’ve never heard you swear this much,” I tease.

His tongue retraces its steps from my collarbone back to below my jaw before he kisses me firmly on the mouth.

“I swore when you walked out here in nothing but a towel. You just didn’t hear me.”

“You mean this morning?”

“No, this morning I was thinking about how badly I wanted you to drop that towel.”

“So you mean…?”

He grins and kisses me again. This time, it’s slow and deliberate.

“The first day and every day since.”

I don’t know what to do with that information, so I kiss him back with every feeling stirring inside me. I want him very badly. But I also want to know his favorite kind of dog and how he likes his eggs, and if he feels leggings are an acceptable form of pants.

“Are you still freezing?” My hands scoot under his sweater, finding biceps and triceps and a slew of other muscles I’ve long ago forgotten the names of.

“Not in the least bit.” He pulls off his sweater in a single fluid motion, tossing it so far that it almost hits the tree.

I reach for him, but his hands are quicker than mine. He tugs my tank top and pulls it off as seamlessly as he did his own; however, this time, he throws it in the opposite direction.

“Do you know how many times I thought about doing this?” he says as his mouth kisses its way along my collarbone. The swirl of his tongue nearly knocks all rational thought from my head.

I moan, although I’m not sure if it’s at his lips or the way his hands are kneading my ass or some combination of the fact that I have spent the last month on this very couch wanting this to happen and now he is here and this is real and so much better than anything that happened in my head.

When he moves to my breasts, his lips leaving a trail of kisses across my skin, I grind my hips onto him, no longer able to help myself.

“Okay.” He laughs, then gives my breast another kiss. “I can take a hint.” He lifts my hips and flips me onto my back.

“Just so I’m sure, you’re not freezing either, right?” His fingers skim along the waistband of my jeans. I want to tell him that my entire body feels like it is on fire, and yet I want as many parts of him touching as many parts of me. What I manage is: “I’m great.”

He takes that as permission to undo the button of my fly. I lift my hips, and he slides my jeans down to my knees, taking one leg off and then kissing all the way up to my thigh before returning to the other leg to remove them altogether.

“Your skin is so soft,” he says, returning his lips to where they left off. “It’s even softer than I imagined.”

“You’ve imagined my skin?” The thought weakens me in a way that makes me glad I’m already lying down.

“I’ve thought about your skin and if you’re ticklish right here.” He brushes his nose along the side of my neck. “I’ve wondered what you look like when you wake up first thing in the morning.”

I think he’s leaning in to kiss me again, but he brushes my bangs from my forehead and cups my cheek. “I know what I said earlier, but we can stop here if you don’t want—”