“I know you,” I whispered. “And I love you.”
He sighed into me, his forehead falling against mine.Like my declaration broke a dam of anxiety in him, allowing relief and stability to flood him. I looked up into those deep depths of green, whispering, “I need you.”
And he was kissing me.
His kiss shifted from reverence to hunger, pure need as his hands found my thighs and lifted me. I wrapped my legs around him. My fingers tangled with the silky tufts of his chocolate and caramel curls.
Trey was walking, but I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think about where he was taking us. I could only feel, think, inhale, exhale, and taste him.
He lowered me onto my feet, the back of my knees meeting with the bed in my small bedroom. He peeled himself from me, his hands back to holding my face as he studied the scene. His gaze devoured the sight of me, the bed behind me, and I trembled with the need to have him on top of me.
“I just need a second,” he said through a tight breath and my brows rose, surveying him.
“Is something wrong?” I asked, and he chuckled deeply.
“No, everything is perfect,” he assured, his eyes gleaming with wonder. Then his mouth dropped to the base of my throat, trailing tender kisses across the exposed skin.
“The teenage boy in me is over the moon right now. It’s been a dream of mine to kiss you in this bedroom—in this bed.” He smiled into the skin of my shoulder, as his hand lifted to slip the strap of my tank top away and down my arm.
I giggled, half-gasping when he sucked at the skin under my collarbone.
“Well, I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t been a dream of mine to be kissed by you whenever or wherever you wanted.”
My mouth quickly snapped shut.
Wow. My life.
I was confidently flirting with—my boyfriend, Trey Turner, while he kissed the skin beneath the neckline of my top.
His amusement vibrated against my skin, sending a rush of feeling and goosebumps all over. He was a drug and I the addict. There was no rehabilitating me of the obsessive addiction.
“Sit, May.”
I perched on the edge of the bed. Then he knelt in front of me, reaching for the laces of my shoes. He made quick work of them, slipping them off and then my socks.
He reached over and gave the hem of my shorts a tug.
“Stand for me, love.”
I smirked. “Make up your mind, Turner.”
But I obeyed, my knees buckling as I stood in front of him on his knees. Trey’s grin was devastating as he smiled up at me.
“There’s that attitude I love so much.”
His face leveled with my sternum. His large hands tickled up from my exposed calves. They moved up behind my knees to cup the back of my thighs, pulling me flush against him. He nuzzled his face into the bare skin between my rising shirt and the falling waistband of my shorts.
His hands latched onto the bottoms of my shorts. He shimmied them down my legs, as he kissed the newly revealed skin of my hips, then my thighs.
My shorts were pooled at my feet. Pausing, he looked up at me from where he knelt, his eyes glazed over with so many emotions, wants, and needs.
“I am going to kiss every square inch of you, and I am going to take my time,” he breathed, and I nodded, not sure if it was a request or a warning. He spun me so I faced the bed. He pressed his deviant smile into the skin of my lower back.
“I love you. You’re perfect.”
Trey pulled my tank top up as he kissed up my spine, standing with the climb. My shirt was off, and he tugged at the end of my frizzy braid. He removed the hair tie, combing his fingers through the long-crimped coils. When his fingers knitted through my loose hair, I followed his gentle pulling. My head rested back on his shoulder, allowing his mouth to find mine.
This kiss was crucial—pivotal as his other hand splayed out across the bare plane of my stomach. I was shattering in the best ways for him.
