Page 62

“One for one. Only fair,” Henry says, kneeling down in front of me.

“Who’s on their knees now?” I say playfully.

He looks up at me, so loaded, and slides my leggings down, gently helping each of my legs out of the slim fabric, dropping kisses on my knees as he places one down, and then the other.

I glance below my stomach. Blue hipster panties. Could be worse. I feel grateful knowing for a fact that these don’t have any holes in them at least. Henry’s eyes are laser focused on them too, his pupils overtaking the soft blue of his eyes.

“Fuck, Norah,” he says, running a single finger over the cotton covering my seam.

I flush, realizing what he now knows—exactly how wet I am for him. He presses gently at the exact point I need him most, as if his hand had memorized me back at that inn, and I shudder, my palms falling to grasp his shoulders. His fingers run along the elastic of my panties, a moment of hesitation, as if he’s debating what to do. I catch his fingers and lace them through my own. He stands, still holding my hands and eyes.

I think it dawns on us in the same moment. We’re about to be fully naked together. As intimate as it had been at the B&B, even with his fingers inside me, our pants had stayed on. This is a whole other level of intimacy, to stand bare in front of this man I’ve known my whole life. There is no hiding in it. I unhook my bra and let it slide to the floor. His hand reaches out, almost instinctively, thumbs circling the peaks of my breasts. Henry’s index finger curls up, rolling my nipple between it and his thumb, the man keenly aware of what that did to me before.

“Same time? One for one?” I ask, fiddling with the blue elastic around my hips, trying to be cute, but it just comes out breathy.

He shakes his head, a smirk spreading over his face. “I’ll go first,” he says, thumbing his own elastic band. “I want to take my time getting you out of those drenched panties.”

He slides his boxer briefs down, his erection springing out, as if grateful to be freed. I can’t look away from the perfect, hard length of him. My eyes glide over his body, and with one finger, I gesture for him to spin around for me. Henry shakes his head, laughing at how completely ridiculous I’m being, but he complies, and every inch of him is better than I could have dreamed.

“Is this weird?” he asks.

My brow furrows. “Why? Do you feel weird?”

He shakes his head. “I feel whole.”

“You’re fucking flawless” is all I can mutter, my brain devolving into the millions of things I want to do to this man.

Henry closes the distance between us, lifting me up and placing me down on his bed. He climbs on top of me, lowering himself to his forearms. I reach for him, but he moves my hand away, kissing my wrist as he places it over my head on his pillow, which smells just like him. I want to breathe in all of it.

“Not yet,” he says gently. He kisses my neck, my shoulder, the center of my chest. His mouth closes around my nipple, teeth biting down with the perfect amount of pressure, and I squirm under him, my hips rising to try to make contact. His torso moves down my body, a trail of lips down my stomach, my hip bone, my thigh, until he repositions himself between my legs, his last kiss hovering over the blue cotton of my panties.

“Can I taste you? Please, Norah?” There is zero hesitation in his voice.

“Please,” I breathe out, and his tongue descends on me, the thin layer of cotton instantly frustrating. He must sense it too, because he props himself up, looking me deeply in the eye.

“I’m going to get rid of these, okay?”

I nod, all my insecurities about being naked in front of Henry Cole dissipating as his fingers hook the elastic and pull the cotton off me.

He lets out a low hum, his nostrils flaring out as his eyes rake over my whole body.

“Perfect,” he whispers, placing a soft kiss on my inner thigh.

He settles in on his stomach, between my legs, as his tongue begins to explore my center. I can hardly believe when he moans into me, the sound vibrating against my clit in a way that makes my back arch, craving more. His tongue begins slow, intentional circles around me, heat building low in my body. Breathing is suddenly a more difficult task as he continues, adjusting himself to slip one, and then two, fingers inside me. His fingers curve up as he adds slightly more pressure with his tongue, and my brain short-circuits.

I’m desperately chasing that release, but every time it comes close, I’m suddenly in my head. All I can think about is that moment at the B&B, the intimacy of his eyes locked on mine while he began to unravel me.

“Henry, Henry,” I gasp, pushing at his head lightly with my outstretched palms.

“Hmm?” he asks, pulling away, looking dazed. “Are you okay? It felt like you were close.”

Just him being in tune enough with my body to recognize that floods my brain with endorphins.

“I was. I am. But I want you up here.”

He plants one more kiss on my inner thigh, then shifts back up to the pillow next to me. I kiss him deeply, tasting myself on his tongue.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Henry asks finally. “We can stop if you—”