Page 133 of And Now, Back to You

“Sorry,” she mutters.

“Stop apologizing to me.”

I cup her jaw and press my thumb against her chin, urging her mouth open, kissing her deeper with another dark sound that punches out of my chest. I hold nothing back, working my apology into her with my tongue and my teeth, hoping she understands how fucking desperate I am for her.

“You feel like—” She arches back into the couch, neck exposed. “You feel like you’re trying to prove a point,” she laughs.

“Good. You’re finally getting it.”

All the things I’m feeling, all the words I haven’t been able to say. I drag my mouth down the line of her throat and work a mark against her pulse point. I hope she has to wear extra makeup tomorrow. That she has to pick something with a high collar when she goes on the air. I hope every time the material chafes against her skin she thinks of this. Me, pressing her down into the couch. Her knees inching higher against my sides.

“There’s nothing to prove, Jackson,” she whispers against my forehead, her hands finally releasing their grip on my sweater. She smooths them over my shoulders, up the back of my head. “Do you want me?”

I have to swallow before I can answer. “So much,” I whisper.

She cups my face, forcing my head up, her thumbs tracing over the sides of my glasses hooked over my ears.

“Even the messy parts? The ones that need a little bit of work?” She presses her lips together. “What about the parts that disappoint you? Because I don’t know if I—”

I rub my thumb over her bottom lip, quieting her. We’ve slipped from desperate to achingly still. “Trust me,” I whisper.

“I do.” She laughs. A short puff of warm air against the hollow of my throat. “That’s the problem. I let you in so fast, Jackson.”

When I was a kid, I never had the luxury of being greedy. I had to learn how to stretch out the things I wanted; break them into pieces just to make them last.

But with Delilah, I don’t want to be patient. I want everything, all at once.

I slip my hand around her back and press my palm to the base of her spine, gathering her close, treating her like the precious thing she is. I was careless before. But I can fix it now. I can show her.

She’s made her demands. I’m going to fulfill them.

I reach for the bottom of her shirt. “Can I?”

She nods, lifting her arms above her head. I pull the soft, threadbare material over her, grunting when I see nothing but smooth skin and bare breasts.

“You’re not wearing a bra.”

“Surprise.”

She doesn’t hide, doesn’t look away. She hooks her thumbs in her pants and slips them down too.

“All of it,” she breathes, and I nod, my hands covering hers, taking over, pulling the soft material from her smooth legs and letting it drop by the side of the couch. She stretches out beneath me, completely bare. Heavy curves and creamy skin. She asked me once what colors I saw when I looked at her, and right now it’s pinks and golds. Amber eyes that burn hot.

I set my hands on her knees, my thumbs tracing a half circle. I haven’t taken off a single thing, but this isn’t about me. It’s about Delilah and giving her everything she deserves. Reassuring her.

“From that very first kiss,” I tell her, “I knew I wanted more from you. I think I tried to convince myself I didn’t, but I’ve always been a bad liar.”

I sink down over her, ducking my head to her chest, catching one rosy nipple in my mouth. I lick and I suck and I drag my teeth against her until she’s tugging at my hair. Pushing me down. Trying to pull me back up. She’s indecisive and bossy, and I love every second of it.

“I want to be your best friend too,” I whisper, right above her heart. “I want to keep you safe. I want to hold you steady. I want to—” I drag my mouth back and forth against her skin and laugh. “Fuck,” I whisper. “I want to go sledding with you in a stupid doughnut. I want to be right here with you.”

“Jackson,” she gasps, back arched. I press another careful kiss to the curve of her breast, then slip down her body until I’m between her legs, hands caged around her hips, angling her the way I need until—perfect, she’s perfect—one thigh is tossed over my shoulder and my chin is just beneath her belly button.

“Will you let me take care of you, Delilah?”

I drag my mouth back and forth, teasing, savoring every shaky breath in and out. The way her lungs expand and fill beneath me. The way she trembles when I sink lower.

I press my mouth against her in a slow, thorough kiss, gripping the curve of her thigh when she wiggles and whines. I hold her still as I learn what she likes best, then let her go as she leans into it. Her thighs press against my ears. Her hands crawl into my hair.