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Her smile slid over me like warm sunshine.
I stood and pulled her to her feet. She kept her hand in mine as I led her across the living room toward my bedroom.
The asshole foster kid had gone into her room late at night. She’d told me that memories of his looming over her with his harsh grip and crowding her with his dick brought on panic attacks. She still slept with a bright night-light.
Her steps slowed as we entered my bedroom, but I pushed the dimmer up to full brilliance, lighting every corner of the room. She eyed the bed and lifted her gaze to me, once more unsure.
“We’re going to snuggle,” I said. “Face to face.”
Shoulders relaxing, she smiled, her pale green eyes losing their hesitancy. “I haven’t cuddled since I was a little girl on my mom’s lap.”
“Come on.” I let go of her hand, kicked off my shoes, and lay down on my side in the middle of the bed fully clothed. No looming, no planking over her lush body, no dominant words or actions…just good old fashioned spooning—or as close as she was willing to get.
She slipped out of her flip-flops and climbed up beside me, keeping a foot or so of space between us, tucking both of her hands beneath a pillow. A lock of blonde hair slid down over her cheek.
I moved slowly, my fingertip brushing her ear while tucking the hair behind it.
Her chest swelled, breath held.
“Jasmine?” I checked in, keeping the tip of my fingers on her hair.
Eyes wide, she stared at me.
I waited.
Her breaths came in pants, and I wasn’t sure if it was due to anxiety or desire.
“Want me to stop?” I whispered, still unmoving.
“N-No…not yet.”
I trailed my fingertips over her ear, watching her eyes the entire time. “Color?”
“I’m okay—green.”
“Just like in your dream,” I murmured, “but you tell me when you’ve had enough.”
Humming an agreement, she nodded.
Avoiding her wrist since Billy had seemed fond of restraining her there, I started at her forearm. A gentle caresses upward led me to the crook of her bent elbow to her shoulder.
Jasmine shivered but didn’t safeword.
I traced around her collarbone, lingering as she had done when showing me what she imagined. “Okay?”
“Mmm,” she hummed, although her breaths still came in pants, wariness in her eyes.
She trusted me to touch her—I had to trust her ability to say red when she reached her limit.
I crept my fingers up her neck toward her ear and down her jawline. I brushed my thumb over her parted lips.
Black pupils dominated the green of her eyes. No fear or anxiety shone from her gaze as she stared at me, just hesitant need.
My cock throbbed, but I held onto my self-control, trailing my fingers back down her neck and feathering over the swell of her breasts atop her shirt. She shivered and slid her upper arm to drape over her hip, giving me access to her chest. Her nipples hardened beneath the tank top.
“Can I touch you there?” I asked, wanting verbal consent.
“Yes,” she whispered, her voice breathless with desire.
