Page 57 of Before We Fell

Which meant flexibility.

She kissed me back, following my lead and her hands curled into my shirt at my sides.

I hadn't thought about anything other than getting my hands on her in a way we could where we wouldn’t be interrupted since I carried Riley out of her house last night.

Mostly, I’d wanted to stay, and take my time with her. Instead, I’d come home, taken care of myself while I thought about all the things I wanted to do with Lauren when she finally succumbed to what we both knew she wanted.

Me.

And now that she had, the fever in which I wanted her was reaching a boiling point. Need for her, not just to get laid, demanded I take her.

I hadn’t slept with a woman since Peyton walked out of my apartment the night of the accident.

For months, I had no interest. I’d been so consumed with Riley. With figuring out my life. Then moving. Then figuring out how to help Riley.

The last thing I’d expected was for the young, sweet next door teacher to be the match that lit up my desire again.

But hell, I liked this. She was sweeter than any woman I’d been with and even from the kiss, she was the kind of woman who would let me happily lead and not fight for dominance.

Which was exactly how I wanted it. I wanted to take her and teach her everything I liked. I wanted to learn everything she did.

I wanted her moans and gasps and whimpers cemented into my brain so I could call them forth when I had to rely on my hand and not her body in the future.

But now…now wasn’t the time for any of that.

It took effort to pull back. All of it I could summon as she slid her hands beneath my shirt, and I felt the press of her cool palms against my heated flesh. I groaned against her mouth and sucked her tongue into my mouth and gently ended the kiss, biting her bottom lip.

“Wait,” I choked out, and pressed my forehead against hers. Our breaths were mingled. Both harsh. She gasped while I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth together.

Baseball. Mom’s home-cooking. Riley. I pulled up every thought I could to will my heart to settle and slow.

“What? Why?” Her wet lips were swollen, cheeks almost as flushed as they’d been earlier. Her eyes were glassy and all of it shot pleasure through me.

But I’d always been about taking from women. Yeah, I gave. I gave as good as I took and made sure they enjoyed it, but at the heart of my experience with women, I was always more focused on me, making it good for me to slake my need for sex until I wanted it again. Never had I taken the time to truly learn what a woman wanted, what she needed, and what she enjoyed most.

Lauren deserved that from me. She was the kind of woman you spent hours touching, all that foreplay shit that I usually hurried through to get the night over so a woman could leave my place, was the most important part with her. I’d take my time. Hours. Days.

Not weeks—I wasn’t a masochist.

“Are you hungry?” I asked, and her expression turned confused. “I can cook us some lunch.”

Her lips twitched. “With what kitchen?”

“My new one. See?” I stepped back, slid my hands from her cheeks and took one of her hands in mine. She gripped me back painfully, and I hoped like hell it was with surprise with how much she liked the finished project.

She’d been so impressed with the work in progress, I’d been thankful as hell when I got back last night, and everything had been finished. The installers must have been here for hours the last two days while I was gone.

“Oh wow.” She tilted back her head and her smile was so large, so impressed, it almost blinded me. “This is amazing.” She squeezed my hand again and flexed hers. I took the cue and dropped her hand, following her farther into the house. Her hand brushed along the light gray marble, and she pointed at the subway tile backsplash. “This is so pretty. I can’t believe I didn’t notice it as soon as I walked in.”

I’d been in her way, and hopefully, she had other things on her mind. “Did I distract you?”

“No.” She nodded though and flashed me another smile. Turning, her hands pressed to the counter as she surveyed everything else. Matte finished wood floors had been installed. The walls painted a neutral beige. I’d wanted gray, but the designer I’d talked to insisted gray was going out of style, so I might as well do what was coming.

It was all nicely pulled together. The walls were dark enough they felt warm and notblahlike I’d been concerned with. I spent so many years living in a professionally decorated apartment with absolutely minimal color and decoration, I wanted to ensure Riley had something different.

This had to be herhome,not a house, and certainly not her uncle’s house, but hers.

“You like it? You’re sure?”

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