"Close your eyes," he whispers.
I do.
He drags his hand down my neck and shoulders. I gasp. A groan of pleasure escapes my lips. I need Tom's fingers on my skin, erasing the memories of anyone else touching me.
He lets out a deep sigh. The good kind of sigh. He wants to do this. Needs to do it.
He drags his fingers over my chest, over the neckline of my tank top. Then under it. Just barely. The lightness of his touch sends shockwaves to my core.
All the ugly parts of the day fade. My body takes over. It doesn't care about tomorrow. It doesn't care about defining our relationship. It only cares about one thing: Tom's hands on my skin.
I dig my fingers into his bare torso, soaking in the feeling of his hard muscles. "Please."
He presses his forehead against mine as if to say yes.
His fingers brush against my nipple. I gasp, arching my back and squeezing my toes to contain the desire that spreads through me.
Yes.
He moves slowly. Peeling my tank top off one shoulder then the other. Teasing one nipple then the other. His touch is soft, precise. He brushes his thumb over me. Again and again. My breath hitches. My heartbeat picks up.
He stays slow, patient. The tension in my neck and shoulders melts. Everything else melts until I'm pure need. By the time his hand slides down my stomach and into my pajama bottoms, I'm too desperate to think anything butnow.
His forehead is warm against mine. He's looking at me with hunger and need, yes, but there's much more to it. He's giving something of himself to me.
He brings his other hand to my shoulder, cupping my chin, my cheek, my neck. The intimacy of it leaves me breathless. I have no choice but to close my eyes.
His fingers brush against my clit. I'm so keyed up that the light touch is enough to send sparks to my core. My lips part with a sigh. My fingers dig into his skin.
His touch stays slow. All the need that has been plaguing me collects between my legs. Tom. God, Tom.
Little by little, he strokes me harder. Until I'm panting. Until there's so much pleasure inside me I'm not sure I'll ever be able to breathe properly again. I squeeze his hip as an orgasm rises up inside me. I press my cheek against his, soaking in all the warmth of his face, his body, his hands.
There. Pleasure spills through me as I come. I gasp and moan. Incomprehensible things that barely resemble words. It feels damn good. Much better than my hand. Much better than with Bradley.
Tom wraps his arms around me and pulls my body into his. No words. But I can feel his heart beat, hear every inhale, every exhale. All that tension is gone. I'm calm.
For once, I really believe everything is going to be okay.
