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“I’m sorry. Please ignore it. I’m really sorry. I didn’t intend for that. It just happened and—”
Her mouth lands on mine, effectively cutting off my panicked apologies.
When I pull away, her hands slink into my hair and tug me back. Her nails scrape along my scalp, and it’s a battle to lock my body down from grinding into her. I’ve missed her kisses so much, and Rosy’s touch on me is something I always crave and need.
But not like this.
“Rosy,” I mumble against her lips, “Wait.”
Immediately she stops, rearing back to stare up at me. “I’m sorry. Do you not want…is this not what you want with me?”
“What? No, that’s not what it is.” I panic, heading into a territory where I need to tread lightly. I need to reassure her I want her…without showing her I want her. “Nothing’s changed how I feel about you. In all honesty, all it’s done is get stronger every moment of every day. But Rosy, you went through something traumatic. Everything is on your terms, how you want to proceed, how slow you need things… I’ll respect what you want, and I’m going to be here no matter what.”
“I want to try, please, Bry? I need to feel something…something good,” she whimpers, pressing her mouth against mine, the kiss full of her desperation even with our mouths closed.
It’s hard to say no, to turn her away and hurt her feelings when she’s asking me for this. If I say no, am I just taking away her ability to decide what she wants for herself? It’s what everyone keeps doing for her, and I just promised that I’d respect what she wants.
Rosy’s tongue flicks out, and the wetness of it entices a groan before I can hold it back. Her body moulds into mine, her lips soft as our tongues intertwine. It’s so easy to sink into her, the heat of us together. There’re times where there’s an almost desperate longing to have her close, to slot her against me and absorb the steady, reassuring beat of her heart. To know she’s still here, breathing, living, and with me.
The strands of her hair glide through my fingers as I cup the back of her head, my thumbs brushing against her warm cheeks. When her leg wraps around my waist, and she pushes me onto my back, her body covering mine, I hesitate.
Rosy pulls away from my mouth, kissing a trail down my neck, and my thoughts disperse. She starts alternating kisses with sucking on my skin.
“I want you, Bry. Please?” she mumbles against the sensitive skin sloping down to my shoulder.
“I…”
My eyes roll back as she sucks harder, her hands trailing down my sides.
“Okay,” I almost whimper, unable to deny her what she wants. If she hesitates or wants to stop at any point, there’s no doubt in my mind that everything stops. It’s her heart that’s important to me; everything after that’s a bonus that I don’t want her to ever think I take for granted.
At my agreement, she leans up and all but consumes my mouth.
She’s so wet, so warm, so perfectly Rosy.
I give, and she takes, time standing still around us as we refuse to come up for air.
She rubs her lower body against me, the move so light I almost mistake it for unintentional. Rosy grows bolder, and little moans filter from her mouth into mine. My throat almost closes at the friction between us.
“Rosy…if…you need to…stop…” I pant, trying to string words together. All I can feel is her heat pressed against my length, only her sleep shorts and my boxers between us.
She makes a disgruntled noise. “I don’t want to.”
She grinds harder, and my hands clench the bedsheets, any attempt to try to ground myself and not finish like that…again.
“If you…do, I’ll stop…at any time.”
She fumbles with my T-shirt, trying to tug it off when I’m still lying down. I halt her, encircling my hands around her shoulders and sitting up. Her chest brushes against mine with each panted breath she makes.
“I need you to promise,” I push, and she scowls at my interruption. It’s dizzying to be wanted so fiercely by her.
“Okay, I’ll stop if I need to. Can you be naked now, please?”
She tugs again at my T-shirt, and I raise my arms obediently to help her remove it. Before I have time to do anything else, she’s dragging down my boxers, my length springing free so quickly it smacks against my stomach.
She shimmies out of her shorts, then climbs back on my lap, my naked chest brushing against her clothed one.
“Can I?” I ask, capturing the hem of her oversized T-shirt, most likely Nate’s.
