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Her fingers hesitated on him. “Does this bother you? My touch?”
Yes, he wanted to say. He forced himself to swallow and answer instead, “Go ahead.”
Her fingers lightly touched his cheek again, tracing the line of his jaw, and then moving over the crease of one of his deepest scars. She continued, moving to his mouth and where the line of it extended unevenly. It’d been reconstructed during surgery, and he knew it twisted his smile. That was one of many reasons why he never did smile.
“I don’t find you ugly, Hunter. No one who knew you could.” Her voice was achingly soft. “If anything, I’m grateful that you have these scars, because they saved you for me—for this moment in time. And that’s a little selfish of me, isn’t it? And yet I can’t help but feel that way.”
His heart ached with the sweetness of her words. Hunter reached for her, cupping Gretchen’s cheek in his hand and drawing her forward. He wanted to kiss her. Their noses mashed together awkwardly, and he heard her giggle. He didn’t care. He liked that nothing was ever serious to her—it made him feel like there was less pressure on him to be perfect, to do this right. His Gretchen wouldn’t mind.
Hunter’s mouth slanted over hers, his lips placed in haphazard fashion against her own. It didn’t matter—she still tasted sweet, her lips soft. This time he was the aggressor, sucking on her lower lip until she parted her mouth, and then he stroked his tongue inside.
She moaned, and her tongue met his. Her hands curled in his hair, and she pressed her body up against him, even as they continued to kiss. Her nipples scraped against his chest, and his breath exploded in a rush.
She gasped, pulling back from him. “Too much?”
He groaned. It had almost been. Pressing a hand to his forehead, he took a moment to recover. Her fingers stroked and petted him, trying to comfort. Instead, it was just driving him crazier. He pried one of her hands off him and kissed her palm. “Isn’t this supposed to be on the headboard?”
“Oooh, right. I got distracted.” She laughed. “Guess you’ll have to spank me, huh?” The bed bounced, and her leg brushed against his. She’d flipped onto her stomach. After a moment, she announced, “Hands are now back in place. Do with me as you will.”
“I’m not going to spank you.” Though his hands itched to touch her ass.
“You’re no fun.”
And she was entirely too much fun, he thought to himself. His hands moved to her thigh and he trailed up her leg, then brushed over the fullness of her ass.
She made a pleased noise. “Mmmm. Keep going.”
He groaned at the sheer pleasure of being able to touch her. Both hands went to her ass and he cupped it, kneading her soft flesh. His cock ached so fucking much now that it was painful, but he couldn’t seem to stop touching her. Nor could he resist sliding a finger between her cheeks and exploring her. He found the wet heat of her sex . . . and she was soaked.
The change in her was immediate. Gretchen moaned and pushed back against his fingers, and one slid deep inside her. Oh, God, she was so hot and wet. Her inner muscles clenched around his finger, and he imagined his cock being squeezed by those muscles and—
With a groan, he came. Hot cum splashed inside his boxers—fuck, he was still in his goddamn boxers—and he withdrew from her to clutch at himself in dismay. He’d tried so hard to keep control and he’d ruined this.
She made a noise of protest as he pulled away. “Hunter?”
He rolled off the bed, humiliated. Damn it. He’d fucked this up. The front of his boxers clung to him with the evidence of his shame.
“Hunter? Where are you? Please don’t leave.” Her voice was soft.
“I . . . I can’t stay. I . . .” He couldn’t bring himself to say the words. I came all over myself like a boy.
“But your touch feels so good. And I ache so bad.” He heard the blankets rustle. “Won’t you come touch me?”
“Gretchen,” he said harshly. “I . . . need to clean up.” There. Now he’d admitted it and she would leave him alone.
“After you clean up, will you come back and finish touching me?”
Astonishment made him turn, even though it was dark and he couldn’t see her face. Wasn’t she embarrassed by his lack of control? “You still want me to touch you?”
“Hey, you got yours. I want to get mine.”
“But that’s not how this works. I wanted to make it good for you.”
“And I intend on you making it good for me,” she said. “No sense in us stopping now if we’re having fun. And I thought we were having fun.”
“Some of us were having too much fun,” he said wryly, her good humor restoring his.
“Oh, my God, did you just make a joke? I should leave you in the dark all the time.”
