Page 46 of The History in Us

“Of course, Levi. Absolutely.” Her eyes searched my face before narrowing on mine. She stared at me as if asking her for support was the most ridiculous thing, as if I didn’t even need to ask. She would just be here for me. For AJ. My heart filled to overflowing, overwhelmed with how easily she’d said yes.

“Stay here.” I scooted back off the bed and walked around it to pick up AJ. He snorted softly, his little body heavy with the weightless comfort of sleep. Lifting him, he curled against me as I carried him to his room and laid him in his crib. My fingers lingered only momentarily over his head as I whispered to him, “I love you.”

Returning to my room, I saw Katie sitting up, smoothing her wild hair. Her expression still confused.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep again,” she whispered. “I’m a terrible babysitter,” she giggled. “He was just so fussy, and I thought if he could feel you near him, he might calm down. Your scent is on the pillow.”

Something twisted inside me to think she noticed the pillow smelled of me. I didn’t even answer her, just stalked back to the bed again, crawling over her legs, forcing her back with my predatory approach. She fell flat, and I slipped next to her. With my hand back on her hip, I forced her to roll to her side and I curled up behind her, closing any gap between us. My knees pressed behind hers and my arm slipped over her waist. Her back melted against my chest.

“You can fall asleep in my bed, anytime,” I muttered, brushing back her hair with my cheek, to get at her neck. My mouth parted and sucked at her skin, searching for that tender vein that would send her trembling.

“Levi,” she whimpered, but her back arched, and her behind pressed at the steel length of me, primed to experience her. I gripped her chin tenderly and turned her face, my mouth seeking hers. Our lips pressed as if I’d kissed her a thousand times, and in my dreams, I had. My pulse raced. This was so much more than a stolen kiss in the library or one in the museum. I’d hardly kissed her the night of our date, but tonight I’d take my time. I traced the contours of her mouth with mine, drawing out the sweetness like it was an actual nectar, drinking in the pleasure of her flavor. She responded to the teasing temptation at her lips and her body curled enough so she was partially under me. My leg slipped between her knees, parting them, and forcing my thigh to press against the heat of her. One of her legs wrapped over mine, holding me firmly against her, but that wasn’t how I wanted her to come. I wanted to feel her on my fingers, taste her with my tongue.

Reaching for the hem of her shirt, my hands sought the warmth of her skin. Pressing upward, I slipped around her back and unclasped her bra with one pinch, a move perfected over time. With no constraints, my greedy hands found her breast, weighty and ripe for teasing. Her nipple puckered and she moaned at the attention my thumb and forefinger paid to her. Her hands roamed down my arm, holding me in place.

“That feels so good,” she whispered, breaking our kiss to arch into the pressure. I pushed up the material of her sweater and dove for her breast, sucking it deep within my warm mouth, hungry for her flesh, teasing that perky nipple, sucking at her skin. Her hips bucked and heat spread as she rubbed over my thigh. Deft fingers slipped to her jeans and unbuttoned them. Her body curled, and her knee pulled upward, opening her thighs to my attention. My hand slipped inside her jeans, straight to wet warmth. She cried out a little at the intrusion of a finger eager to experience the heart of her desire. Her hands cupped around my head as I moved to the second breast and added a second finger to the discovery of skin, sensitive and slick with need.

Releasing her breast, I returned to her mouth, allowing my tongue to follow the lead of my fingers, swirling and dipping, increasing the pressure, the attention, the desire. I wanted to taste her moan, feel it deep in my throat as she clenched my fingers, holding me inside her. Her hips rolled, my throat groaned, and her knees came together. She broke free of my lips, letting out a soft cry as her thighs clamped, hugging my hand between them. My fingers loved the sensation of her coming apart around them, and another part of me stood at attention, wanting a turn.

I pulled her upward, slipping her sweater over her head, hastily tugging her bra off. She dragged my shirt out of my pants, and then pulled the button-down upward. Delicate fingers traced over my abs, and I flinched at the tenderness of her touch.

“Are you ticklish?” she asked, reaching up for my mouth with hers.

I didn’t answer, responding with my lips on hers again. Reaching behind my head, I yanked my shirt and undershirt over me. Those saucer-sized eyes drank me in, sculpting over the plains of my chest and dipping down to the slight hills and valley of my abs.

“You’re too perfect,” she whispered, and I liked the raspy, appreciative sound to her voice. My mouth sought hers again, and I pressed her back so my chest could feel the heat of her breasts. The instant our skin hit, an uncontrollable sound rolled from my throat. The warmth of her against me made my skin tingle. I melted against her, drawing in the comfort of her contoured under me. I’d slipped both legs between hers, spreading her wider, positioning the length of me over her once satiated core, wanting to satisfy her again. We kissed as hands explored arms and waists and necks. We kissed and she pressed against me, sending a message of willingness, although I also read her innocence. She hadn’t reached for me, a place that burned for her touch. We continued to kiss, topless, and exposed, but not bare enough.

My mouth moved to her neck, trailing down to her breasts and traveling to her waist. My eyes glanced upward, finding hers closed, a pinched expression on her face. Lifting up on an elbow, I spoke.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she sighed, still facing the ceiling.

“Why aren’t you watching me?”

Her face shifted and her expression showed her surprise.

“I…I was…” My finger tickled over her waist, and she sucked in a breath.

“You what?” I teased, enjoying the way her stomach moved as my fingers drew over her belly.

“I can’t be a one-night stand.” Looking up, I found her eyes closed instantly. My finger stopped circling. In the history of my sexual experience, no one had ever said that to me, and my first inclination was to laugh. My second was to tell her she would be more than one night in my bed, but then I knew it was a promise I couldn’t keep. My palm flattened on her stomach and skimmed upward, settling between her breasts briefly before circling her neck. My body shifted higher, still bracing on my elbow.

“Katie, look at me.” Her eyes opened slowly, conflicted and confused.

“If this is all we do tonight, it’s fine.”

She shook her head. “You hate that word, and I want to be better than fine for you.”

The willingness of her words wrapped in uncertainty undid me. How could I let her know she was more than fine for me? She was better than anything, than anyone, could ever be.

“You’re perfect,” I said. “And this is perfect.” And I meant it. I’d never felt this way before, but if she’d let me caress her body, feel the warmth of her skin, and treasure her lying on my bed, I’d atone for all my sins. The universe was giving me fifteen minutes of greatness and I was taking it. Finally, heaven was on my side.