Out of Character (True Colors 2)

“Ah…” Inside. Jasper was inside me, and my body was still trying to decide what it thought about that even as my mind thrilled.

“Okay?” His furrowed forehead said he’d stop the instant I told him it was too much. Which it wasn’t. Just…different. Overwhelming, but not in a bad way. And I’d wanted this far too long to turn back now.

“Yeah. We’re good.” I met his gaze, wanting to reassure him, but the depth of emotion in his eyes was almost my undoing. So much there. Jasper. Me. Everything. And then he shifted his body, moving so we could kiss, and the change in position sparked something deep inside me. Different and almost too much became incredible in a space of heartbeats. “You’re good. It’s good. So good.”

“It is.” There was so much wonder in his voice. “Clearly I need to work on my powers of imagination where you’re concerned…”

I knew exactly what he meant. “Me too. Never thought…”

“Me either.” He stroked my face and neck. I couldn’t get enough of looking at him, watching his reactions, hearing his murmured praise and soft moans. “You’re amazing.”

“Ditto.” I was rapidly losing the power of speech and rational thought. This was everything I’d ever wanted, every fantasy, every feverish late-night imagining, all right here, a thousand times better because it was Jasper. “Need…”

“I’ve got you.” And he did, reaching for me right as I did the same thing. I let him win though because his was the touch I craved.

“Jasper.” My head fell back and my whole body started to tense. “Hurry.”

And this time he finally complied, and then there was no more talking, no more thinking, only pleasure that seemed to go on and on. No beginning, no end, exactly like my feelings for Jasper. I couldn’t remember how I’d lived without him, without us, without this moment where we were more than our ordinary selves. Jasper would undoubtedly have some complicated math term to describe how this wasn’t addition but something more. Something extraordinary, and I never, ever wanted it to end.

“Wow.” At some point, Jasper had stiffened along with me, our moans mingling, and now he sounded as out of breath as I felt. His face was flushed and sweaty, and I wanted to look at him like this forever, memorize him in this moment.

“That was…” I was no better at speech than he was, voice all rough and rusty.

“Exactly.” Jasper gave me a tender kiss, brushing my now-damp hair. “You okay?”

“You have to ask?” I sounded drunk still, but this beat any other substance I’d tried, the best high I’d ever experienced.

“Always.” His eyes were serious again. And I knew he meant it, knew he always would ask, and that made my chest expand. Seeing that level of caring from him for me of all people was nothing short of breathtaking.

“You’re the best.” So many other things I could say, so many things I wanted to put words to, but I was still sex-drunk and drowning in the emotions I saw in his eyes.

And maybe he could sense that because he laughed and pretended to preen. “I try.”

“Me too. Don’t give up on me.” There. That was what I wanted to say—or part of it at least.

“I won’t.” The laughter was gone now, and I wanted it back because the sudden tension in his muscles reminded me of all the ways we could still fail. All the ways that I could still let everyone down. And now, so much more seemed to be on the line. I’d never dared to imagine something this good, and now the thought of losing it made my skin all clammy. I held him closer, trying to keep him with me as long as I could.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Jasper

“Hold still.” Milo’s face wrinkled. He was adorable when he concentrated.

“How am I supposed to hold still if I don’t know what you’re doing?” I ignored his request and twisted around to try to see. He was especially adorable like this—naked other than a pair of boxer briefs, sprawled in my desk chair, feet on the bed near where I lay, sketch pad in his hand.

“If you can’t tell…” He waggled a pencil in my direction. It was late, probably past when we should have tried for sleep, but we were both weirdly awake and energized. We’d both made use of my limited hot water after sex, then had a late-night snack, and now it was apparently arts-and-crafts time. Milo had retrieved his sketchbook amid some mumbles about a brainstorm. Which apparently involved me needing to hold still and not touch my postshower hair.

“Funny. Come on, am I at least going to get to see?”

“Maybe.” Milo reached for our half-eaten bag of popcorn and fed me a few kernels. “Here. Maybe this will keep you quiet.”

“This would be a better incentive.” Rising to my knees, I gave him a fast, salty kiss as my body tried its best to convince us both that going again would be a most excellent idea.