All I see is her desire.
How is that for me?
How is she real? How can she stand to have my blood-stained hands on her perfect skin?
Have to ask her, someday. Not now. Don't dare ruin the moment with my self-doubt.
I slip two fingers inside the strip of lace around her hips; my breath shakes, my hands shake. I hold her eyes, moving slowly, giving her all the time in the world to change her mind.
Instead, she slides her fingers into my hair at my temples, watching me. I draw the scrap of black lace down an inch at a time. The desire-damp material clings to her sex, sticking where her thighs touch.
"Oh god," she breathes.
I stop instantly. "You okay?"
"I'm okay. Just…nervous." She licks her lips. "Please don't stop. I’m just scared."
I pull the lace down a few more inches, past the sticking point where her thighs meet, and then the underwear falls free. Her scent greets me, sensual and erotic. I clutch her thong in my hand, amazed and awed that this is happening.
I have a wild urge to sniff the underwear, to see if it smells as good as her sex. I can't seem to stop myself.
"Bear!" Noelle cries, laughing. "Did you just…smell my underwear?"
My cheeks burn. "Yeah."
I set the black lace aside and fill my hand with her curves, sliding my touch up her thighs to her butt. Press my face to her belly, forehead against her diaphragm. Her breath makes her belly swell against my face, and I can't help but kiss her there.
I inhale deeply. "You smell so fuckin' good, Noelle," I murmur. "Sorry if that was creepy. You just…fuck. You smell so goddamn incredible."
"Ohmygod, Bear," she breathes. "You mean my…I smell good…down there?"
“Yes,” I growl, longing to taste her.
Kiss her left thigh, just below her hipbone. The other side. Her belly again, just below her sweet, adorable little navel—I kiss her there, too, and catch a giggling gasp from her.
Press my nose just above the soft thatch of curly red fuzz, hands cradling her ass. Take a long inhale of her scent, heady and dizzying and uniquely hers and so fucking arousing I could crawl out of my goddamn skin with need.
"Your pussy smells like fucking heaven, Noelle." I press my eyes into her belly. "I've got a filthy mouth. I'm sorry. You deserve better than to be spoken to like that."
Her gasp at my words is shocked, shrill; at my apology, she murmurs a wordless sound of negation. Smooths her hands over my head, gently tilting my face up to hers. “No, honey. No. Don’t apologize.” She kneels and presses her mouth to mine, kissing her words to me instead of speaking them. "I like your filthy mouth. I liked it…what you said." Her cheeks flame red. "It was hot."
She moves to her feet, tugging me up with her. Brings my hands to her belly and guides them to slide up around the lower curves of her breasts.
Honey.
I'm stuck on that. The sweetness of it, the affection that sinks hooks into my heart. Into my soul.
I'd do anything—any fucking thing at all—for this woman; this fact rifles through me and lodges at the core of my being. I may not deserve her, but I'll be damned and double goddamned if I ever stop trying to be worthy of her.
All because of that one word—and the intent and emotion behind it.
She senses something or sees it in my face. "Bear? What is it?"
Where do I start? What do I say? It's too much. Too big.
“You called me honey." It's the best I've got, right now.
Her expression melts, and she sinks against me, soft thighs pressed against one of mine, sex against my taut quad, her pubic hair a delicate scratch against my skin. "You liked that?"
