Page 137 of When Love Takes Root

“I’m with you.”

His hand moved over my cheek, then down my side. “Good.”

I stared up at him, undone and wide open, and saw the restraint still holding in his shoulders. He’d put his own hunger aside long enough to learn mine first.

Something in me softened so much it scared me.

“You’re dangerous,” I whispered.

“No, Red. I know exactly what I’m doing with you.”

He reached toward the nightstand and grabbed the small foil packet. He tore it open, protected us, then came back over me with a kiss.

Josiah pressed his forehead to mine. “Breathe with me.”

I did.

He moved into me slowly, careful enough to let my body make room for him and close enough to make my thoughts scatter. The fullness startled me. My fingers dug into his shoulders, and before the sharp breath in my chest could turn into nerves, he covered my mouth with a soft kiss.

A low moan slipped from him, restrained and rough, and his hips went still.

“Celeste. Damn, baby.” He breathed against my lips.

The words came out uneven, like the feel of me had caught him off guard too. His jaw tightened. His eyes stayed on mine. For all that strength over me, for all that heat pressing between us, he held himself still and let the moment settle.

“You feel so good. Give me a second,” he whispered.

That did something to me.

Not because it was polished.

Because it wasn’t.

Because he wanted me badly enough for his control to shake, and still, he chose to take his time.

His mouth brushed mine again. “Easy. I’ve got you.” His hand slid beneath my head, cradling me. “Look at me, Red,” he rasped.

My eyes opened before my pride could argue.

The name hit me low and warm, different from baby, different from love, like he’d pulled something private out of his chest and placed it against my skin.

“Red?” I whispered.

His hips stayed still, but his eyes didn’t leave mine. “Been calling you that in my head since the salon.” My breath caught. “I was trying to behave,” he murmured. He kissed me softly, and the ache in my body settled into something warmer. “There you are,” he whispered. A tear slipped before I could stop it. He kissed it away. “Too much?”

I shook my head. “Just a lot.”

His voice stayed steady. “Let your body catch up. I’m not going anywhere.”

My fingers loosened against his shoulders.

“That’s it. There you go,” he murmured.

He waited until my breathing changed, until the tightness in me softened into something warmer, something willing. When I moved my hips beneath him, his jaw flexed.

“Celeste.”

“I’m okay.” His eyes searched mine. “I’m more than okay.”