“At some charity function in Tampa. They probably won’t be home till close to midnight, if it’s anything like last year.”
A sudden rush of anxiety trickles up my spine, spreads through my limbs, and explodes beneath my sternum. Today is our anniversary. We are alone. After professing our love for each other. And she is looking at me like she has no desire to watch a movie, but perhaps do something else. Something more.
She stalks closer, locks eyes with me and stops when her chest brushes mine. Her fingers reach out and draw lines down my bicep, my forearm, interlocking our fingers. Heat expands and contracts like a breathing organism in my chest. My breath comes in quick, short bursts as she inches closer and closer. And when she pushes up on her toes and kisses me, I forget how to breathe altogether.
The kiss starts off tender and gentle. She slides her hands back up my arms and laces them behind my neck, toying with the edges of my hair. Her tongue darts out and swipes a slow and sinful line over my lower lip, and I moan at the sensation as I part my lips and invite her in. My arms snake around her waist and draw her impossibly closer. Within seconds, the kiss elevates into
more. More heated. More passionate. And I can’t get enough of her. Her lips, her warmth, her taste.
We start moving, but I don’t open my eyes as she slowly guides us. It seems as if we have been walking for hours when her body weight shifts and we settle in place. Our lips break for a moment, which is exactly when I realize we are in her bedroom. Next to her bed. Dim moonlight illuminates the space between the slats of her blinds. And the sudden proximity to her—in the darkness, in her bedroom—amplifies everything I feel for her.
Standing tall, I gaze down at her as she lies back on the bed, elbows propping her up. I want this—want her—but I need to know she feels the same. That she doesn’t feel a sense of obligation to take us to the next level. That she wants to do this of her own volition. I would never pressure her into doing something she isn’t ready for. Never.
“Cora…” I rasp, my voice thick with emotion as I draw out her name.
She reaches out her hand, her eyes telling me to take it. Wrapping her fingers with mine, she drags me closer. My knees bump the edge of the bed and sweat breaks out across my skin. “Yes, Gavin.”
Yes? As in she is responding to me. Or yes, she wants to do this? Wants to take the next step. Sex. What exactly is she saying yes to?
“Are you sure?” I ask, reluctance in my tone. I don’t want her saying yes because she thinks it’s what I want her to say. “Because we don’t have to if you’re not ready.”
Her brilliant green eyes pierce mine, her voice steady and firm when she speaks. “I am sure. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more ready in my life.” She gives my hand a gentle tug, signaling me to join her on the bed.
This exact moment has infiltrated my dreams for months. I never knew when it would happen, but the fantasy of it was a regular occurrence. Now that it is happening, I am not sure what to do. My feet remain rooted to the floor as I look down at her on the bed. She wants me as much as I want her, although it may be a bit lopsided in my favor. Am I ready for this? To share this once-in-a-lifetime moment with her? Yes, I have never been more ready. So, why am I not moving? Why can I not put my knee on the bed and crawl my way up her body?
“Gavin?” She peers up at me, confusion furrowing her brow. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay. Just give me a second.”
“If you’re not—”
I cut her off. “I am. It’s just… you don’t know how long I’ve waited for this moment. And now that it’s here…” I trail off, not knowing how to explain how overwhelmed and buoyant and in love with her I feel right now.
She rises on the bed, perching up on her knees on the mattress edge. “We can go slow. Maybe just fool around with clothes on. Go from there.”
I nod, inhale deeply and focus on her eyes. The way they glimmer in the dim light in her room. Her lips. And how soft they feel when I press mine against them. The warmth of her hands as she frames my face and leans forward, her breath teasing my lips. Her frankincense and gardenia scent wafts around me and entices me further. Makes my pulse throb in my ears and my heart pound in my chest. Has my breaths coming faster, dizzyingly. And when I lean in to kiss her, we melt together.
Our kiss starts off slow, two sets of soft lips brushing together. Her hands slide down my neck and onto my chest as her delicate fingers separate buttons from fabric. I break out in goose bumps when she spreads the cotton, pushes it down my arms, leaves it to dangle from my waist and exposes my skin. A new form of hunger surges beneath my ribcage and in my groin. The kiss morphs, growing in intensity and becoming more animalistic when her nails scratch light lines down the backside of my torso. I tip my head back and gasp.
She takes hold of my hips and starts to crawl backward on her knees, pulling me on the bed. And this time, I don’t stop her. Every part of me is desperate for her. Lips, mouth, tongue, hands… more.
Our kiss never falters as she lies back on the mattress and brings me with her. A frenzy erupts between us, and the urge to taste more of her grows stronger with each passing second.
Breaking the kiss, I paint my lips along her jaw, her ear, down the curve of her neck. Her breath ragged beneath me as her chest rises and falls faster with each taste as I consume every inch of her. Running my hands down the sides of her dress, I slide down her body and begin kissing her ankles, her calves, her thighs. When I reach her dress, I slip my fingers under the hem—warranting a gasp from her—and scoot the material up her body. Cora sits up, helping me lift the tight, stretchy fabric and yanking it off her body.
As her body lands on the mattress again, my dick jolts at the sight of her. Matching black lace covers her breasts and the junction of her thighs, the material sheer enough to see her pert nipples and a thin patch of curls. Holy shit.
She wrenches me down, and we are all mouths and tongues and roaming hands. Minutes later, she tosses my shirt away as she unbuttons my jeans and shoves them down my legs. The second my pants hit the floor, my lips move down her chest and explore. My tongue lavishes her nipples before licking its way down her navel and hovering above her panties.
My eyes lock with hers, asking permission. She nods, running her fingers through my hair and tugging. Slipping my thumbs under the elastic, I slide the lacy triangle down her thighs and to the floor. When I come back to her body, I taste her for the first time. Her addictive flavor a blend of salty and sweetness on my tongue. A moan rips from her throat as I melt into her, my dick throbbing between my legs.
“Oh, god…” she garbles.
She is sweeter than any confection I have ever tasted or imagined. But when I kiss my way up her body, and our tongues collide again, I become even hungrier for her. Her hips grind against me, begging for me to give her more.
Rising from the bed, I reach for my pants and remove my wallet, taking the condom out of the hidden pocket. Holding it between my teeth, I shove down my underwear, tear the package open and roll the condom in place.
Hovering above her on the mattress, I hold her gaze. Neither of us moves. Neither of us says a word. We stay like this a minute, letting the reality of what we are about to do settle in. Then, I press a soft kiss to her lips. I kiss her slow. I kiss her as if no one else exists.