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When we cleared the doorway, she started tearing at the buttons on my shirt, and it was halfway off when I dropped her in the middle of the king-size bed.
She bit down on her bottom lip as I tore the shirt off and tossed it to the floor.
Topless, hair wild, and her skirt wrinkled up around her waist, she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
And somehow—impossibly, inexplicably—she’d given me her heart.
The thought slowed my movements as I unbuckled my belt.
She lifted her hips and pushed the skirt down, kicking it off onto the floor.
When Zoe hooked her thumbs in the edge of the black lace left behind, I shook my head. “Leave that for me.”
She exhaled shakily, sliding her hands up into her hair before she sat up on the bed.
What I didn’t need was her hands on me when I was this close to the edge. But I closed my eyes and let her push down my pants and boxer briefs. Once I stepped out of them, she slid her hands up the front of my thighs.
At the first touch of her soft tongue against me, I wove my hands into her hair and tugged. She tilted her head up and stared at me.
“No?” she asked.
“Later,” I managed.
I pushed her back with a hand in the center of her chest and prowled over her when she split her legs open.
Only a thin scrap of black lace separated us, and for a moment, I made slow rolling motions against her while we kissed deeply.
Filthy kisses too, where my tongue mimicked exactly how I wanted to feast off her, how I’d take her in slow, decadent waves. And sheshuddered like I was too. Her hands carded through my hair, and she whimpered when I rolled my thumb over her chest again.
This was the version of Zoe I wanted, why I’d made us wait through an entire interminable day of torture.
She was riding that knife-edge of pleasure, and there was something borderline painful in how much we wanted each other.
Frantic need would ebb as we got used to being able to touch and kiss each other. But in its place, we’d have familiarity. And in order to get to the second, there was no choice but to stoke the flames of the first.
That need came from hours of doing nothing but imagining it. Despite the desperation in the way we touched, there’d been no rushing into this moment, so there was no chance that we’d second-guess it later. That there’d be even the slightest shred of regret.
I moved down her body, worshipping every freckle, every curve.
She rolled her body, lifting her hips when I tugged at the black lace covering those last bits of skin.
“One to take the edge off,” I told her, placing sucking kisses against the insides of her thighs as they trembled on either side of my shoulders.
“What about you?” she said breathlessly.
I slid my hand between her legs, and she moaned, arching her back when I grinned at exactly how badly she wanted me.
“Darling,” I said, tutting my tongue, “I showered twice today and thought about this.” I kissed her hip bone. “And this.”
Then I shifted down, held her legs open, and showed her exactly what I wanted for my dessert. The taste of her on my tongue was sinful, and I’d have died happily in that moment, knowing what she sounded like when she moaned my name, how she gripped my hair in her fists and rolled her hips against my mouth. “And this,” I said, when I dived back in with a fierce, sucking kiss.
She broke on a helpless, sharp cry, her stomach trembling under my spread hand, and I’d remember it for the rest of my fucking life.
I pushed back up and covered her with the weight of my body, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand before I kissed her deeply.
Zoe was still gasping for breath when I took myself in hand and pushed in. Then pulled back.
In farther.
