Page 51 of Falling

He wasn’t kicking me out, at least.

When I looked up at him again, he was looking at me like he’d never seen me before.

And he was still holding my hand.

“Too much to hope that this is what you were about to ask for earlier?” he asked. Had his voice always sounded like that? Like it was curling up in the pit of my stomach?

“I was,” I admitted. “It’s too much, I know, but you’re so safe and comfortable and⁠—”

Booker cut me off with the brush of his thumb over my lower lip.

“Nothing is too much for you,” he murmured. No, his voice hadn’t always been like this. I’d unlocked a secret, even sexier Booker voice and I wanted him to use it to whisper in my ear while he peeled my clothes off. “Tell me what you want.”

“Take me upstairs?” I asked, hopeful.

“Now?” Booker raised an eyebrow.

“I could wait,” I said.

But I didn’t want to. I’d been waiting my whole life for this, and I didn’t want to wait a minute more.

I watched Booker take his phone out of his pocket, tap on it for a handful of seconds, and then tuck it back in. “You don’t have to,” he said. “If you’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” I said. I’d never been as sure of anything in my life.

My breath hitched as he stepped forward, and then all of a sudden my feet lifted clear off the floor.

Now that I was sitting in Booker’s lap, I didn’t ever want to be anyplace else.

I had both his hands on me, one pushed up under my sweater vest, warm through the thin fabric of my shirt. The other was splayed over my thigh, high up but not quite on my ass.

Booker was being so gentle with me.

He felt so good I could’ve cried. If I’d thought kissing Joel was a surprise, this was a revelation.

I laughed into his mouth between needy kisses, learning something new with each one. What felt good, what felt great, how I could make Booker grunt and sigh and squirm under me.

There was so much to talk about, but I didn’t feel like talking right now. We were both saying everything we needed to with touches and kisses and the comfort of being together.

This was what I’d been missing. The right person.

My heart skipped as I shifted my weight and felt Booker hard against me, unmistakably turned on. By me.

I wasn’t sure that’d ever been true for anyone before.

I had to tug my own shirt out of the way to get his bare hands on my skin, but as soon as he made contact he gripped me tight, like he was afraid I’d disappear.

I wouldn’t. This was exactly where I wanted to be, exactly what I needed. Booker, and his warmth and kindness, his safety, and the chance to finally figure out what I’d been missing out on.

His breath hitched as I ground down against him. I wanted to hear that sound over and over and over again, as many times as I could get him to make it.

“Ignore it,” he said, choked and breathless and holy shit the thought that I was doing that to him was enough to make my head spin.

“I want it,” I said, impressed with myself, my own confidence. But then I was confident. With Booker, I could be confident that nothing bad would happen. That I could have whatever I wanted and it’d be okay. It’d always be okay.

Booker made another needy sound I wanted to hear a million times and surged forward to kiss me again, grip tightening, the hand on my thigh sliding up to squeeze my butt and pull me closer. Everything about him felt so good, even as my thighs strained, even as my heart pounded like it was trying to escape my ribcage.

I didn’t quite have experience with this situation, but I had Ryder’s book, and luckily, Warren and Ryan had been in exactly this position.