Page 82 of Be My Compass


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I didn’t doubt that I could.

Because I care about her more than life itself.

Because this isn’t just about me.

It’s about her.

What she wants.

What she needs.

And I’m glad that I could be the first to give that to her.

She walks her fingers down to my zipper. “So you’re not gonna…?”

“Soon.” I kiss her nose again.

“Not now?” She moves her touch further south. “Because you’re ready now.”

I am.

I was ready the moment her shirt got tossed over her head.

The moment I pushed her skirt up.

The months of waiting and hoping and imagining tugged violently at my restraint. Made me wonder if the ropes holding me back would snap.

They didn’t. But just barely.

“You think you can have it just because you ask?” I say, stroking her cheek.

“Well?” She tilts her head. Bats her lashes. “Can’t I?”

We’re flirting.

It’s new.

But I like it.

I like the way she’s looking at me.

I like the freedom to touch her face one second and rub her chest the next.

I like it all.

Her smile is knowing, devious. “Do you want me to beg for it?”

“That would be nice.”

She scoffs. “I bet I wouldn’t have to say a word.”

True.

That’s very true.

But I still tease her. “I’m going to make you work for it.”

“Lap dance?”

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