That was all he needed.
I had no idea when we left the wall, but the next thing I knew, my back was sinking into the plush bed.
My eyes fluttered open to find his gaze on mine, watching, waiting. His breaths were laboured, his body trembling slightly, like it took a tremendous amount of control to pause.
He leaned down, his face hovering just above mine. His lips were still damp, slightly swollen.
I could tell he wanted to go on, but the way his fingers traced the edges of my face, the hesitation in his eyes… it was clear he was waiting.
I pulled him back and his lips crashed on mine, harder, faster, as if he couldn't resist the contact.
My hands wandered up his shoulders and down the sides of his arms, and his muscles tensed, responding to the touch.
It was like a switch had been flipped.
His hands explored—slow, careful, reverent. When they slipped beneath the hem of my shirt and touched bare skin, I trembled.
He paused.
"Tell me to stop," he whispered against my lips.
