I struggle with what I want, what I feel. “Kane?” He turns his eyes down to me, the question in his expression. “Should this thing, this sex, not go both ways?” I lift up on an elbow, leaning into him, tracing the contour of his heavy chest. “Are there not ways which I can touch you, as well? As you did for me, I mean.”
He pulls me back down, and now he angles over me. His fingers touch my jaw, my cheek. “Yeah, honey, there are. Lots of ways.”
“I want to.”
He smiles at me, but it is an expression I cannot translate. “Greedy girl.” He kisses me, soft and quick. “One step at a time.”
“What is the next step, then?” I ask.
He rolls a shoulder. “Dunno.” His lips touch my shoulder, my chest. “Maybe…getting you comfortable being naked.”
“Oh.” I try to imagine this, but I cannot.
He rumbles a laugh. “Relax, now, Anjalee. We got all the time in the world.”
So, we relax. His chest makes a comfortable pillow, and his arms around me are warm, and I feel safer than I have ever felt. Cradled, sheltered.
Wanted.
I drift.
I do notice he keeps his hips away from me. I remember, when I sat astride him and kissed him, how the hardness behind his zipper grew. So, I steal a look. The zipper seems to strain, bulging outward, as if struggling to contain something.
As I watch through slitted eyelids, he plucks at his zipper, pulling it away, subtly tilting his hips. This, with a tight sigh, I think assuming I am asleep. It seems almost as if he is in pain.
“Kane?”
“Mmmm.”
“What is wrong?”
He frown at me. “Hmm? Nothin’. I’m good.”
I lift up on an elbow. “Kane. You promised—no lying.”
“Ain’t lyin’,” he grumbles.
I frown at him, touch the corners of his eyes. “When you lie, I can see it, here.”
He arches an eyebrow. “You can?”
I nod, tracing the little lines at one corner, the other. “Oh yes. A very little thing, just a…tightening, I suppose.” I rest my laced fingers on his chest, and my chin on my hands. “So. The truth, if you please.”
He sighs. “Know how when we were kissin’ and all, you said you ached? Got all hot and bothered?”
I nod. “Yes, I remember.”
“That’s called gettin’ turned on.” He shrugs. “Goes both ways.”
I think this through. “But when I became turned on, you touched me. You gave me my orgasm, and now I feel…oh, goodness…even better than ever.”
“Yeah.”
“You were turned on, and you did not get this.”
“It’s okay, honey. I’ll be fine.”
“What does it feel like, for you? To be turned on?”
