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“Mmm,” she hums against my mouth. “I love the feel of your whiskers against my skin.”
I move my lips down her jaw and to her neck.
She gasps and rocks, wiggling closer. With that small movement, her cleft cradles my cock and it’s all I can do not to grind against her.
“How do you feel?” I ask, raising my head.
“Squishy.”
“Is that how you describe being turned on?”
“Kind of.”
“Are you wet?”
“I think so.”
Kissing her, I lightly touch her breast, and she doesn’t pull away. She lets me touch her, and taking it a step further, I undo the tiny buttons of her blouse. “You gotta tell me if I go too fast. We aren’t going to make love tonight, but I want to look at you, okay?”
“Okay. Can I look at you too?”
“Oh. Yeah.” I didn’t consider she’d want to undress me, but she slowly unbuttons my flannel shirt. I’m wearing a t-shirtunderneath, and she shoves her hands under it, bunching it up under my arms until I pull both off. Her touch sends a shudder through me.
“You’re strong.” Her fingers trace my abs.
“Yeah.”
She goes higher, and her fingertips graze my nipples. I’ve never considered my chest to be an erogenous zone, but anywhere Zarah touches me feels like it’s on fire.
“What happened?” She lightly flutters her fingers over the bullet hole that reminded me I wasn’t Superman.
“Someone didn’t like me.”
“Did it hurt?”
“A little. It was a few years ago.”
“Will you tell me about it?”
“Later.”
Her tongue laps at the scar, and I splay my hands over her back, under her blouse. Her skin is so smooth and soft, I don’t want to scratch her with my callouses.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, checking in. Not very romantic, but I don’t want to be a trigger like Max was, either.
“Good. My heart feels like it’s going to explode.”
“Mine too.”
“Now what do we do?”
I blow out a breath. “You want to come, but no sex.”
“Can I do that?”
“Yeah. Your pants are tight. Do you feel comfortable taking them off?”
“Yes.”