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“Why are you going so slow?” I complain.
He laughs. “You’re so used to everything so quickly, aren’t you?” He shakes his head.
“You said it was late, and you wanted more time.”
“I changed my mind. I’m going to take my time with you. I like to take my time opening presents, especially ones I really want.”
My eyebrows lift. “That is a hell of a line.”
“It’s not a line.” He gets my dress over my hips, exposing my seamless black underwear, and his mouth curves into a wide grin. His hands start to map the parts of my body again: legs, arms, stomach, breasts, hips.
He leans down to kiss me again, and in no time it is a frenzy of our mouths.
“Do you like to be touched here?” His fingers trail down to the band of my underwear.
“Yes,” I sigh.
His finger slips inside, what feels like at a glacial pace, and gently caresses the bundle of nerves desperate for it.
I whimper.Whimper. Jesus Christ.
“Is that good?”
Bobblehead nod is back.
“Give me words.” He nibbles at my earlobe. “I want to hear you.”
“Yes, yes. Good,” I manage to get out in what sounds like a strangled whisper.
“Do you like slow? Or a little faster?”
“I like … I like slow. I like …”
“Taking your time?”
“Yeah. It takes time.” That just made me feel like an inconvenience. Too much and nobody patient enough to bother.
“I’ve got all the time you need.” His smile is so damn perfect. Has he always been this hot? This seductive? This fucking amazing?
“Wait. What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Let me touch you, too.”
He lets out a quiet groan. “Not yet. This is about you.” He probably senses that I’m about to fight it, so he kisses me hard. “Let me.”
And I can’t do anything else but just let him.
His finger moves slowly, in soft circles, then he trails lower and dips one inside. I sink into the mattress, moaning in response, as he adds another finger, pushing in deeper.
“You feel amazing.” His voice is rough against my skin, and goosebumps follow.
“Logan,” I breathe out.
“Fuck, I love it when you say my name like that.”
“Like what?”
