Page 113 of Personal Foul

His arms fall to his sides, and I take that as encouragement to take another step closer. “Oh yeah? How so?”

“She’s the one who told me I should apologize to you for taking away your choice. That if I want to be with you, and you want to be with me, those are the only two opinions that really matter.”

He nods, closing the distance between us. His eyes search my face, and he leans toward me but doesn’t reach for me. “She’s right, you know. Other people’s opinions only matter as much as we let them.”

“I realize that now. I still think us being together will cause problems for you, though.”

He shrugs. “Let me handle my parents. I’ve been doing it my whole life. And I’ll let you worry about yours.”

I hold out my hand for him to shake. “Deal.”

He laughs, looking at my hand for a long moment before finally sliding his palm against mine. He clasps my hand, but doesn’t shake it. Instead, he uses it to pull me close, his other hand cupping my cheek and tipping my head up. His thumb strokes my skin. “I’ve missed you,” he murmurs.

“I’ve missed you too.”

That makes him smile. Then he bends his head and kisses me. It starts out chaste, little more than a peck. But when he pulls back, his eyes examining mine, it’s obviously not enough. With his hand holding my head in place, he kisses me again, his lips parting and his tongue seeking mine.

His other arm winds around my back, pulling me tight against him. My hands find their way to his shoulders, holding on as I’m swept away by his kisses.

Moments later, he boosts me up, wrapping my legs around his waist so he can carry me to his bedroom. My laughter interrupts our kiss, and I bury my face in his neck, his skin warm under my lips.

“Here I thought I was being sexy and romantic,” he grouses playfully, “and you’re laughing at me.”

That makes me laugh some more, but my laughter dies when he drops me on his bed and strips off his shorts.

He’s hard, his cock standing straight and proud, all ready just for me.

He grips it, giving himself long strokes. “See something you like?”

Smirking, I raise my eyes to his. “You.”

That makes him give me a genuine smile. “You are wearing far too many clothes, though.”

I start to pull off my top. We’ve done this enough times that there doesn’t seem to be a need to stand on ceremony now.

But he climbs on the bed and stops me, peeling off each article of clothing slowly, reverently, dropping kisses on my skin as each inch is revealed.

When I’m finally naked and we’re lying on his pillows, he props his head up on his hand, stroking his other hand up and down my body. “I’ve dreamed of this,” he whispers, his eyes flicking up to meet mine. He cups one of my breasts, his thumb slowly moving back and forth over my nipple. “I’ve been waking up hard and aching for you every morning, wishing that my dream would be reality and you pushing me away was just a nightmare.”

Tangling my legs with his, I turn on my side, push up on my arm, and kiss him. “I’m here now. No looking for outs. This is what I want.Youare what I want.”

He kisses me, pressing me back into the pillows and covering my body with his, nudging my legs apart to make space between them. We take our time with each other, exploring familiar territory like it’s new and undiscovered country.

In some ways it is. The emotional landscape between us has changed. The walls I’ve kept up between us have crumbled, and I’m finally letting him all the way in.

When he makes his way down my body, his shoulders holding my legs spread, a rakish grin on his face as he pets me with his fingers, I gasp at the first contact of his tongue.

He grunts in satisfaction. “That’s it, Spitfire. Let me hear you. Don’t hold back.”

My heart warms at his use of the nickname he gave me. I haven’t heard it in nearly a week, and somehow that signals more than anything that we’re back where we belong.

Here.

Together.

No holding back this time.

He worships me with his mouth, his fingers, his whole body, bringing me to ecstasy like it’s his favorite thing.

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