Page 27 of All Fall Down

There aren’t words to describe the feeling that’s overcome me. He seems to understand this, and he moves beside me, drawing my body close to his. Brushing the wet hair from my face, he kisses each cheek, then my forehead, then along my jawline. He worships me slowly and my body softens under his touch.

Still after all this time, I’d expected a little more urgency. Jameson seems to understand the need to take it slow. We’ve been through a lot recently.

But my paranoia gets the best of me. Am I just laying here like some cold, dead fish? I reach up and tangle my fingers through his hair, tugging his face closer so that I can capture his lips. He surrenders, but only long enough to steal my breath away.

“There’s no need to rush,” he murmurs the reassurance.

I let him take charge then. There will be plenty of time for the more female-empowering positions of the Kama Sutra later. Right now, I give him my faith, my body, my everything.

He accepts it with each sweep of his mouth over mine and each caress of his hands on my body. I give myself to him, and he offers himself to me. We take and we give, allowing the heat of our bodies to conquer any apprehension we might feel. When my fingers find the buckle of his pants, his hands close over my wrist.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

I can’t find the words, not with all the emotions swelling inside of me, so I nod. This simple act of consent speeds us along a bit, and my heels shove his pants down. He settles against me and I can feel the heat of him. Even with our bodies still separate, in so many ways, we’re closer that we’ve ever been before. We pause on the cusp of something that might change our relationship forever.

“I love you.” His words are a vow. He traces them along the soft, bare contours of my body.

I find my voice, so I can repeat the precious statement. Three simple words that carry more weight than any others in the world.

Our lips crash together, his tongue flicking my mouth open so that he can deepen the kiss. I arch against him, but he doesn’t accept the invitation. Instead, he breaks away, panting. Brushing his thumb over my lower lip, he smiles. “Hold on a sec, duchess.”

When he breaks contact, I bite my lip where he touched it, trying to resist the impulse to squirm. He tears open a foil packet. For a split second, I realize there’s a lot of things we haven’t discussed, and I make a mental note that it’s time for me to get on the pill. Before I can berate myself for not being more cautious, he lowers his body over mine and the worries melt away.

I wiggle my hips, and he grabs them, holding me steady. His patience can be infuriating, but when I finally feel the first, hard edge of pressure, I gasp. My hands seek the sheets, and I grip them tightly.

A look of concern settles over his face. “Do you want me to stop?”

I shake my head. I guess my one and done experience a few years ago didn’t qualify me as broken in. “I’m okay.”

He moves slowly, gradually closing the last bit of distance between us and pausing occasionally to allow me to adjust. Once we’ve managed it, we stay like that for a few moments. Finally, I release my grip on the sheets, and hook my arms around him to signal that I’m ready. Jameson brushes his lips over mine, allowing the kiss to become something more organic. Our bodies take the hint, moving in rhythm with one another, until the slight discomfort I feel morphs into a small ripple of pleasure. Jameson responds to my pleased gasp with gentle urgency, rocking against me, and coaxing me towards my shattering moment of bliss. He meets me there with a low growl that tears through him.

Neither of us move for a moment. It took us so long to get here that the idea of breaking up the party now is unthinkable. Instead, our limbs twine together and we shift until we’re on our sides, never breaking contact.

I’ve never really been one for long walks on the beach or love letters. But staring into the eyes of the guy you love after making love is pretty all right.

“What are you thinking?” he asks softly.

“That it was worth the wait,” I confess, not bothering to hide a sheepish grin.

“And?” he presses.

“That I hope you’re not going to make me wait that long for the next time,” I tease.

He presses his forehead against mine. Our skin is damp with sweat, but he laughs. “How about we do it again right now?”