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“You did giggle.” She’s so wildly amused by that. “I was thinking… I… You’re k-k-kind.”

Her words hit me square across the chin like a sharp jab. And maybe her tone is what does even more damage. Like being kind is an anomaly. “Does that surprise you?”

She tilts her head and stares at me for so long it’s almost uncomfortable. I don’t push her for an explanation, no matter how badly I want to. Prying words from Truie is a futile pursuit.

When she finally speaks, that jab delivers a knockout blow. “Why w-wouldn’t it surprise me? K-kindness isn’t a given and I”—she pauses, seeming to count through her breath—“I know better than to assume.”

Oh my fuck, that slays me. Absolutely slays me. Not willing to release her hand, I slide my free one to the back of her head, twining my fingers through her messy curls. “I’ve tried to be mindful of that. I don’t want to scare you.” I search her eyes for any hint of distrust, glad when I don’t see it.

“You’re n-not that way with…with everyone, though, are you?”

I hesitate to answer that directly, so I make her a promise that I hope she believes. “I will never be anything but with you.” I kiss her softly, trying to convey the sincerity of my vow.

Truie melts into me, her hands soft as they roam tentatively along my skin. I shift her fully onto my chest and allow my hands to take in her petite frame. She’s so small, so slight, that my hands completely span her spine when stacked, from the dip of her neck to the curve of her ass.

The way I want to cup her and move her should be illegal. It would take nothing to shift her down my body, line her up with my aching cock, and thrust against her.

Truie starts to move as she takes control and deepens our kiss. She rocks her hips, rubbing her sweet little clit against my abdomen.

My hands fall naturally to her ass, encouraging her as she chases her pleasure. I release her when her movements stutter at the added pressure and dance a light touch up her back, caressing her silky skin beneath the oversized t-shirt. The material shifts, exposing her to the cool air. Goosebumps rise and another shudder goes through her.

“Okay?”

Her yes is nothing more than the hint of a whisper that skates along my neck as her soft lips make contact again.

I shove my head against the headboard, arching my back so I can lie flat and give Truie access to all of me. Thankful that movement doesn’t scare her, I allow my hands to roam elsewhere.

Her knees are hiked high on my ribs as she straddles me, and I glide my hands along the thin cotton of her leggings.

I want to rip them off, toss the shirt she always seems to find to the ground, and roll her to her back. I want her splayed out for me, spread wide for me to taste and tease, to kiss and lick and suck leaving tiny red marks on her skin to show she’s mine. Marks that no one else will see, because if they did, I’d have to rip their eyes from their heads. Fuck, I’d have no choice but to kill them because there’s no way I could stand them even having that memory.

I test the limits of touch, backing away when she stiffens, revisiting those spots to see if the reaction changes.

Her shirt bunches between us, the bulky fabric pushing us apart. Any barrier, any distance, is too much. I slide my hands up her ribs, noting the definite lack of ticklishness.

“Can I?” I push at the gray cotton, and Truie goes completely still. “No is a complete sentence, hummingbird. I’m not going to fight you on that, not ever. If you’re not comfortable with something, you tell me, and I stop. No question. No explanation.”

As is her way, she pauses, gathering her thoughts, taming her words. But then she surprises me sitting up straight and slipping her arms from the sleeves of what has become her favorite t-shirt. Slowly, the fabric lifts.

With painful patience, she exposes her flat belly, the ribs that hold her precious strength within. The bottom curve of her tits are just about my undoing. Gorgeous in every way and tipped with tight rosy nipples. Every inch of her is nothing short of perfection, but when she pulls free of the shirt, her wild curls are backlit by the light from the sitting room, glowing like a halo on the angel that she is.

My heart stops. My breath stalls in my lungs, and I swear I’ve died and gone to Heaven. But I’m fairly certain that I’ll not be granted entry to that particular kingdom, so this must be Hell. Tempted with Truie, but unable to touch her.

Her arms drop, crossing over her exposed breasts, and her eyes shutter. “I’m s-s-sorry. I, um…”

“Absolutely not, love. You have nothing to apologize for. It’s just harder than I’d imagined holding myself back. To not roll you to your back and ravage you. I’m fairly certain I’m not worthy of looking at you, let alone touching you. Christ, I’m trying so hard. I don’t want to scare you.”

“I… I’m not. Scared, I’m not scared. Not with you, and I…” Pause. Count. Inhale. “I don’t know what to do with that. Not being scared kind of…scares me.”

I wrap my hands around her, resting them gently on her hips. Fingers splayed, thumbs perched on the crease of her thighs. “I don’t want you scared in any way.”

She pushes at where my dress shirt clings to my shoulders, like the fact that it’s there is a problem.

I knife up, sliding her off my abdomen and to my lap as I do. My shirt is on the floor in record time, and Truie’s lips are parted in a surprised O.

“I thought you wanted that gone?” She did, right? I didn’t imagine her pushing at the fabric? Almost scowling at the mere presence of the linen?

Her hips roll and shift, and I realize it’s my dick that’s the issue here. Fucking hell. “I’m sorry. I can’t make that go away quite as easily, but⁠—”