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“You promise you’ll tell me if you’re in pain. The minute it becomes too painful, we stop. That’s the only way I’d be willing to try.”
I suck in a breath. He is only trying to take care of me, even if this conversation spoils the moment’s sensuality. I have to remind myself he is an expert and has seen it all. I try not to take it personally—this is not a rejection of my new body.
He loves me.
Everything he is doing—everything he is saying—is because he loves me.
The least I can do is reassure him.
“I promise I’ll let you know if I’m in pain.”
“Thank you,” he says.
His hands snake around the back of my head until his fingers tangle in my hair. His mouth leaves mine only so he can lick and bite my neck playfully. The feel of his lips and tongue on my skin sends goosebumps of recognition down my body. His touch feels better than what I remembered.
We needed to have that conversation, but it didn’t seem so bad once it was over. If anything, I think Rory and I now have a deeper understanding of the other’s needs. It was embarrassing—I wanted to burrow my head into the dirt—but now there is nothing left to get in the way.
Rory’s hands slide down my spine until he finds my bra strap and unclasps it. I spring free, and my muscles twitch with the reflex to cover my chest, but I don’t. I have to let Rory in if I intend to say yes—because I really want to.
“Valentina,” Rory whispers as he studies my body. I stand, and we keep undressing each other.
I’m shy in a way I’ve never been before. I know he senses my trepidation because he moves slowly, gently.
I lose my balance as he pulls me into him, and I land on his lap again, straddling him.
He runs a hand through my hair. “It’s growing in great. I love it. You look beautiful.”
My cheeks feel three-hundred degrees, and I bury my face in his neck.
“You mentioned lube?” He asks.
“Yeah, it’s in the nightstand.” I reach for the drawer and pull out the bottle and a condom, setting both items next to us.
I stand to help Rory out of his boxer-briefs, and I gulp when he springs free.
“We don’t have to—“ he says softly.
“No, it’s fine. You promised me we could try.”
He nods, but his brows are drawn inward, and his face is twisted with concern.
I take some lube in my hand and wrap it around his shaft, stroking him slowly. His face instantly relaxes, and his eyes draw shut. I can only hope I’ve broken through his concern.
“Valentina,” he says my name in a raspy voice.
“Yes?”
“That feels so good.”
“Does it?”
“Mmm-hmmm.”
“Open your eyes, Rory.”
He obeys and watches me take more lube. I return one hand to him, and his eyes widen when he sees me starting to pleasure myself with the other.
“Fuuck,” he growls. “That is so hot, baby.”
