Page 78 of The Valentine Agenda

Like she was a gift.

Like she was a choice.

Like she was his choice.

Before now, before James, giving herself to someone always meant losing a part of herself. She thought that intimacy meant sacrifice. That love meant diminishing, making room for someone else to shine.

But James didn’t take.

He gave.

James had always been good with his hands. Fixing things, making life easier in the background, never asking for credit. But now—now—his hands were on her.

And he wasn't fixing.

He was worshipping.

His fingers skimmed the curve of her waist, tracing reverently as if memorizing her, grounding her. His mouthfollowed, leaving slow, deliberate kisses down the line of her throat, his breath warm against her skin.

"Hannah," he murmured, like a prayer, like something sacred.

Her hands fisted in the sheets, her breath coming faster. He was so careful. So deliberate.

James kissed lower. Slower.

Hannah tensed slightly, instinctive, and James noticed immediately.

He lifted his head, searching her face.

Hannah’s throat tightened. "I don’t want you to stop,” she told him.

A slow, wrecked exhale. And then—

James pressed a kiss to her hipbone, slow and reverent. Another to her inner thigh. “Good, because I don’t want to stop either,” he said, his voice was raw with want.

It was almost unbearable, how intentional he was. Like he had all the time in the world.

Like he wanted this more than anything.

And when he finally—finally—put his mouth between her legs and kissed her where she was aching for him most, Hannah made a sound she didn’t recognize.

James groaned against her skin, as if he had been waiting for that reaction. As if this was the thing he had wanted all along.

The first flick of his tongue was soft, exploratory. Testing. But then he found what made her gasp and—oh.

"Oh, my god," Hannah breathed.

James made a satisfied noise—almost smug. He focused there, slow and methodical, his hands holding her open to him, keeping her in place as she gasped and gripped at the sheets.

He was not rushing. Not teasing.

He was giving.

He was taking his time.

And god, Hannah had never been taken apart like this.

She had never been the focus like this.

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