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The taste of him.
He’s all I never knew I wanted.
And, oh, how I want him right now.
Though the kiss starts slow, I deepen it almost immediately.
Kellyn doesn’t protest.
He grips me more tightly, lets me lead the kiss, as I press against him again and again, playing with his lips, licking them, biting them, savoring them.
They’re turned up all the while, as though he can’t help but smile. He likes this. Loves it when we’re physical.
I love it more than anything.
I pull at the laces at his neck. The gap only goes down to his mid-chest, but I follow the opening with my lips, tasting new parts of him.
In one sudden movement, Kellyn picks me up and lays me on the bed, sprawling himself over the top of me, which impedes my progress at his chest.
But I don’t mind one bit when he starts undoing the laces on my own nightgown.
Again, the gap doesn’t go nearly far enough, but I love feeling Kellyn’s lips against my collarbone, his heated breaths sliding beneath the cotton.
I need his lips higher. I need his lips lower.
I settle for the easier of the two, drawing him back up to my mouth.
And then I flip our positions, so I’m the one on top. I straddle his legs as I go for where his shirt is tucked into his pants,pulling the fabric free. He helps me hoist it over his arms and head.
I take in the sight of his chest greedily, let my fingers trace the pattern my eyes make. He’s so solid. Sobig. So beautiful.
And I remember my desire so long ago.
The one to touch him.
My imagination could never hold a candle to the reality of it.
Kellyn pulls my mouth to his for more biting kisses, and I try to free myself from the confines of my nightgown. I hadn’t realized at the time, when I wanted to touch him, just how much I would want him to touchme.
Kellyn’s hands go to my hips, and suddenly finding them bare, he freezes in place.
I’ve got my nightgown bunched up to my waist, but I stop my progress in undressing at his sudden immobility.
He sits up, keeping me close, his hands tightening on my hips.
“Ziva, what are you—”
I kiss him. I can’t help it. “I want you,” I tell him.
He groans against my lips. His arms crush me to him, making it impossible for me to do anything more than return another open-mouthed kiss.
And then he stops. He rests his forehead against mine. Loosens his arms but doesn’t pull away.
“I want you, too,” he says.
I relax—I’d been worried that maybe I’d done something horribly embarrassing that would prevent me from ever leaving my room again.
“But…,” he starts.
