Page 67 of Tides of Change
It wasn’t tentative. It wasn’t careful. It was heat and pressure and raw intensity. Garrett kissed like a man making up for lost time, like a man who had been holding back and refused to any longer. His mouth moved against mine with purpose, with demand, and I met him every step of the way, drinking in the taste of him, the scent of him, the sheer force ofhim.
My world narrowed to the feel of Garrett—his broad frame pressing into me, the rough scrape of stubble against my skin, the intoxicating mix of power and tenderness in the way he took control. Every other kiss I’d ever had felt distant, forgettable in comparison. This was fire licking at my skin, setting every nerve alight.
Garrett groaned against my mouth. His fingers slid up my sides, over my ribs, and traced the outline of my body like he wanted to memorize it. When he pulled back just enough to breathe, his forehead resting against mine, his chest rising and falling in time with my own, I barely had the strength to keep standing.
He exhaled a shaky breath. “Ethan…”
I swallowed hard, and my heart pounded so loud I was sure he could hear it. “Yes?”
He hesitated for a moment, and then he ground his hard cock into mine. “I want… I want to fuck you.” He sucked in air. “Is that something you’d want?”
My cock throbbed, onboard with the possibility. “Yes, I’m vers. And I’d love that.”With you.
“I don’t—you’ll have to lead the way.” His voice was unsteady, uncharacteristically unsure.
I reached up and cupped the back of his neck, tethering us both. “We’ll work it out. Together.”
Garrett let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh, but his grip on me never loosened. I saw it in his eyes—not just the protectiveness, but the desire, the want. The willingness to take this leap with me.
A shiver shot through me in anticipation, and then our lips met again in a scorching kiss. We staggered down the hall toward my bedroom, reluctant to release each other. We fell onto the bed in a tangle of arms and legs.
He pulled back far enough to strip us of our clothing, tossing them to the floor. His hands roamed my chest, my abs—the sensitive area of my groin—as I arched off the bed and goosebumps rose on my skin. I whispered his name in reverence.
I turned away long enough to grab a bottle of lube from my nightstand drawer. “Do you have a condom?” I hoped he came prepared. I hadn’t brought any with me.
He vaulted off the bed, rummaged in his pockets until he found his wallet, and triumphantly held up a foil packet.
Thank God.
Garrett climbed onto the bed and eyed the lube. “How do I?—”
My pulse fluttered as Garrett looked down at me, his expression curious and open. I reached up, fingers brushing his jaw.
“Kiss me,” I whispered.
He did—slowly, tenderly—like I was something fragile and worth holding on to. His lips met mine with a warmth that stole the air from my lungs. He broke away and peppered kisses down my neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake, until he reached a nipple. His tongue laved the sensitive skin, and I hissed in a breath.
“What else do you want?” he asked, low and husky, his pupils dilated.
I spread my legs and pulled them to my chest. “Grab the lube.” I taught him how to open me with his fingers—one finger, two, then three—and he was a fast learner. I was a trembling mess of need by the time he finished.
He rolled on a condom, coated his dick with more lube, and lined himself up. He licked his lips nervously and began to press inside. I breathed through the initial entry.
He watched me carefully as he slid farther into me. “You okay?”
I nodded. With his gaze locked on mine, the moment was even more intimate than the physical touch, but I couldn’t look away. I wanted this closeness of mind and body. With him.
As he inched into me, wonder mixed with pleasure crossed his face.
I thrummed with the pleasure-pain, and the discomfort receded.
He bottomed out, and we both groaned. He leaned forward to crush my lips with his. “Had to kiss you,” he said when he broke away. “You feel amazing. So tight. So hot.”
“And you fill me up.” More than just physically.
He thrust into me tenderly and gently. I hooked my legs around his waist and urged him on. I angled my hips, and he hit me in just…the right…spot. I gasped. “Yes! Like that.”
Garrett repeated the stroke. He propped himself on his hands and set up a rhythm guaranteed to push us both over the edge. “Too good. Can’t hold on much longer.” The cords on his neck strained.
