Page 73 of Say You Will

“You?”

I shiver when he kisses my neck. “Mmm. Yes. Me. There’s another box in my bedroom and one in your bathroom . . .”

He lifts my T-shirt over my chest and swallows hard, seeming to forget what he was saying.

He holds two fingers to my mouth. “Suck these for me, darling.”

My abdomen and pelvis clench so hard and fast at his words that I gasp before I draw his fingers into my mouth and swirl them with my tongue.

He groans, and lust pools inside me, as hot and relentlessly needy as it was before he gave me the first orgasm.

He trails his wet fingers over my nipples. “Look how your nipples pucker for me. They’re begging to be kissed. Your breasts are perfect.”

He truly believes that. I told myself that I hadn’t let my mother’s opinions sink in, but some small part of me must have been worried that he’d share her feelings, because his sincere admiration gives me a shot of pure confidence.

He sends me an apologetic glance. “I did this backward. I was supposed to kiss your breasts first.”

He drops his head, and does just that, while he continues to pluck and tease the other with his fingers.

“There’s no ‘supposed to.’ Right?” I ask breathlessly.

He doesn’t answer, but his mouth is occupied, and I don’t mind. I run my hands over his shoulders, into the damp strands of his hair, keeping my touch firm, the way he asked me to.

He curls his fingers in the waistband of my underwear and slides them down. I lift my butt to make it easier for him, and he makes eye contact as he drags them off completely. “Thank you, Franki. You keep this pussy so pretty.”

My mouth falls open, as pure liquid warmth floods through me. “H-Henry?”

He slides up to lie beside me, his right hand cushioning my head. Then he kisses me as his left hand trails over my breasts, over my abdomen, and then his hand is there, sliding between my thighs. He’s gentle, but firm as he explores.

“You are so precious,” he murmurs.

A terrible, aching pressure builds in my chest and clogs my throat.

No onehas ever said anything like that to me in my life.

No one has made me feel like what I want or need matters.

Growing up, Bronwyn was my best friend, but Clarissa was hers. I was my mother’s caretaker, but she was never mine, no matter how desperately I needed it. All my life, I’ve been an inconvenience, a tool, or an afterthought.

Henry is shifting my world, changing everything in ways I never even imagined.

“You’re my person.”That’s what he said. I was so caught up in attempting to decode what hereallymeant that I didn’t let those words sink in. I didn’t believe them. How could I? This is what he meant. I’m precious to him.

I kiss him back hard, rolling into and partially onto him, so that my right leg rests on his thigh, his erection hot and hard against me.

His hand rests briefly on my hip before he lifts it away to my back.

“No. You can touch me.Touch me, Henry.”

His hand moves back to my hip and his fingers splay across my butt cheek, his movements gentle and sweeping. His fingers dip into the crease and squeeze. Then he slides that hand down, down. He dips a finger inside, just the tip, then uses the wetness to circle my clit.

It feels amazing, but I’ve let him do everything while I just laid here and received his attention. I drag my hands down his chest, following with kisses. I stop at his nipples and kiss.

I look up to catch him watching me. “Do you like that?”

“I like anywhere you touch me, but my nipples don’t appear to be any more sensitive than any other part of my body.”

I slide down further and kiss his scar. He jerks, then says, “That tickles.”

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