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I put my hand over his and guide it up around my throat. He jolts slightly.

“I like this,” I whisper. “I like your hands on me. Everywhere.”

He said he’s afraid of hurting women, but I know him. I’ve seen him respond to stressful situations and heard how many times he’s put others before himself.

Evander has killed many people, but there’s a big difference between him and Donovan. Evander kills terrible people to save innocent ones. Donovan killed on Justin’s command.

I turn, looking up at him. His expression is a war between hunger and uncertainty.

“I want you,” I assure him softly. “I want to fuck you and be fucked by you. I want you to fill me so full I can’t take anymore. Trust me to know what I want. What do you want?”

Vulnerability flickers over his face. “You. That. All of that.”

I unfasten his pants and slide the zipper down. His nostrils flare as I push them to his knees. I’m unwell in the best way when I see the outline of his erection against his boxer briefs. He’s intimidatingly thick and long.

He sits on the edge of the bed while I unlace his boots and take them off, following with his socks. When I stand between his legs, cradling his face in my hands, he looks up at me, his hands resting on my hips.

This is about feeling good and escaping, but I can’t help the other feelings that are pouring out of me. We’ve come such a long way, and not just in terms of distance covered.

I bend and press my lips to his, and he kisses me back, his hold on my hips tightening. It’s a soft, slow kiss, and when I pull away, I unfasten my pants.

He takes over, gingerly unzipping them and pushing them down my hips. I step out of them and he cups my ass, squeezing. I inhale sharply, reaching around to unclasp my bra and get it the rest of the way off.

I put a palm on his chest and give him a soft push. He lies back, his eyes never leaving mine.

When I pull his underwear off and drop them to the floor, I finally get to see all of him. He’s glorious—a work of art on the outside and as much of a fucked-up mess on the inside as I am.

He watches, enraptured as I slide off my underwear and step out of them. When I get on the bed and straddle him, he closes his eyes, trembling.

“You can’t do anything wrong,” I tell him.

He breathes out, sounding frustrated. “I’m not gonna last long.”

“But will it feel good?”

He furrows his brow. “For me, yeah.”

“Trust me.”

My body tingles with anticipation as I position myself on top of him. When I take the head of his cock and rub it back and forth over my wetness, he groans and throws his head back.

“Fuck. Amira.”

His muscles flex as he strains, his body taut as I sink down onto the first few inches of him. Even though it’s been a long time since I’ve been with anyone, I’m so wet that it feels good when he stretches me. I go farther, both of us groaning with satisfaction.

“Hands,” I gasp.

He reaches for me and I guide his hands to my breasts. I grip his lower arms, supporting myself as I sink down farther. He cups my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my nipples as I move up and back down his cock.

“Holy fuck.” He gasps hard, pinching my nipples. “You feel so fucking good.”

My body hums all over, molten heat rushing harder through me with every moment.

“Oh, shit.” His expression is agonized as he fights to hold on.

I move faster and take him deeper, crying out from the delicious fullness of him.

“Let go,” I plead, breathless. “Come inside me ... Van, please.”