Page 158

“Yes.”

“I wondered if it would be different.”

“It isn’t.”

Her fingers stay against me. “The first time, I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“Neither did I.”

“And now?”

I press her palm more firmly to the place that carries my name. “Now you do.”

She kisses me before I can say anything else. The careful pace survives for several seconds.

Then Laura’s mouth opens beneath mine, and the weeks between us disappear. I pull her closer, feeling every line of her body against mine while my cock lengthens between us. She makes a low sound into my mouth and slides both hands under my shirt, exploring me with an urgency that tells me exactly how much she’s missed touching me.

I break the kiss long enough to pull the shirt over my head. Her gaze drops.

“That’s distracting.”

“What?”

“You.”

“I’ve been here the whole time.”

“You’ve been clothed.”

“Not always.”

Her laugh turns into a gasp when I kiss the side of her neck. I know this part of her now. The place below her ear that makes her tilt her head. The line of her throat. The soft skin above her collarbone. I know the difference between the breath she takes when something tickles and the one she takes when she wants more.

Knowing her body doesn’t make touching her less interesting. It makes me want to catch up on what I missed. Her hands know me too now; when one slides over my side, it avoids the rougher crossing near my ribs and finds the smoother path beneath it without looking.

My hands move under her top, and she lifts her arms before I ask. The fabric lands somewhere behind me. Her bra follows more slowly because the clasp is still badly designed, but eventually I get it open.

Laura laughs under her breath. “Still fighting with those?”

“They’re unnecessarily complicated.”

“Some things never change.”

“Good.”

The word makes her pause for half a second. I kiss her before the moment can become another conversation. Not because I’m avoiding one. Because we’ve already had it.

My mouth moves lower, over the curve of her breast, and her hands tighten on my shoulders. I take one nipple into my mouth and feel her body arch toward me. The sound she makes races straight through me.

“Kell.”

I look up.

“You remembered exactly what I like.”

I give the other breast the same attention until she’s breathing harder, then slide my hands down her sides to the waistband of her pants.

“This is where I ask whether you want me to keep going,” I say.