Page 81 of Be My Compass


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I’ve stroked.

I’ve licked.

I’ve seen.

I know she tastes like honey now.

I know where to touch so it comes pouring out.

She can’t walk it back.

Neither can I.

The lines in the sand skittered away like my pens and folders did when my hands swept them to the ground.

I don’t know where the first boundaries are.

Only the later ones.

I see those.

And that’s why my clothes are on.

That’s why I didn’t take her fully.

We have more lines.

More safety nets.

More time. To be sure. To be certain.

Kaelyn’s heels scramble for purchase as she tries to sit up, but they slip against moisture and she fails. I wrap an arm around her waist and set her straight. I expect her to retreat, but she doesn’t.

Her arms fall on my shoulders.

Her legs clamp around my waist. First one. Then the other.

The heels I told her to put on hook behind my back.

She rests her forehead against mine. Sweat clings to her skin. “Wow. That was… I’ve never—“

“I know.” I press a kiss to her nose.

“Before. Other guys—“

“I know.”

She’d blush if her skin were lighter, but I can see her nerves in other ways. The lip bite. The flutter of her eyelashes. The tremble in her fingers.

Kaelyn never talked about her dating life with me. I didn’t either. Even if we were seeing someone else, that person rarely mattered enough to enter our world. They were never important enough to tiptoe into our universe where there was only room for two.

But I’ve observed her. How she would only go on a few dates before complaining that the chemistry wasn’t there. That the guy was pushing for too much too fast. That she wasn’t comfortable. That she wasn’t interested. That it didn’t excite her.

I heard the words beneath the words, and I knew that she wasn’t getting what she needed.

Until now.

Until me.

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