Page 76 of Stick With Me
“Sure.” I lean over the coffee table to smell the candle. It’s new, judging by the smooth surface of the wax, and smells like a summer day in Florida.
I settle into the couch, sipping my wine. Ryan moves beside me, draping his arm casually across the back of the couch. He closes the space between us, and for the first time in days, there’s no hesitation in his eyes. He runs a lazy finger under the neckline of my shirt. I’m still wearing the jersey from his game. “I love seeing this on you,” he murmurs, his gaze dropping to the Saints logo on my chest.
I squeeze my legs together, subconsciously moving toward him. How can a simple touch and a few words have such an effect on me?
He takes my glass and sets it on the table along with his. When he leans back in, he frames my face with his hands and kisses me lightly.
I shift to my knees, needing to be closer to him. The height brings us eye to eye. I rest my forehead against his, and his breath ghosts across my lips. “I’m sorry about the other day at lunch,” I whisper.
“You don’t have to apologize.”
“I do. I know I’ve been all over the place, and I don’t want you to think it has anything to do with you or how I feel about you. It’s just that everything’s been a jumbled mess in my head.”
He pulls back just enough to kiss my forehead. “Understandably so. You’ve been through a lot, and I don’t want to push you. Like I told you, I’m here when you’re ready. And I’ll still be here, even if you never are.”
I feel lightheaded, air coming and going from my lungs in a staccato rhythm.
He runs his hand up my neck, stopping to cup my jaw. His movements are slow and deliberate, giving me plenty of time to pull away. When I don’t, he brushes his lips against mine, just a tease of a kiss, before pulling back to give me time to decide.
“Are we practicing?” I breathe.
“Do you need it to be?” His implication is clear. To him, this is real, but he’s leaving the door open for me to retreat, if that’s what I need.
I shake my head, the motion gentle and slow, our foreheads still pressed together.
“Thank fuck.” He brings our lips together violently, no buildup—just pure, unfiltered need driving his movements. I love this side of him, the way he can be both tender and rough, flipping seamlessly between the two.
I moan as his tongue meets my lips, and I part for him. He takes the opportunity to push into my mouth further. Before I’m ready, his lips leave mine, but they return to my sensitive skin quickly. Kissing, licking, and nipping across my jaw, down my neck, to my collarbone, until the shirt I’m wearing obstructs his path.
He pulls back to meet my gaze. “I want to keep this on you. I want the taste of your cunt on my tongue while my name graces your back.”
I nod.
“Words,” he rasps.
“Yes.”
He works his way down again, stopping at the juncture where my neck meets my shoulder. Pushing the fabric aside, he peppers me with open-mouthed kisses before biting down—hard enough to send a shiver down my spine. “You’re mine.”
“Yes,” I breathe.
He lifts the jersey, so it’s bunched around my neck, giving him access to me. His eyes take me in hungrily. I’ve never felt as sexy, as wanted, as I do when I’m under his gaze.
Getting frustrated with the awkward angle of our seated position, he guides me down. I spread my legs, making room for him, and he cradles himself between my thighs. He keeps his weight off me as he kisses down the valley between my breasts and pushes my bra up.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he mutters against my skin. His wet tongue laps at my hard nipple, while his hand tweaks the other. Alternating back and forth between both breasts until my mind is blissfully blank and I’m grinding against him.
“I’ve imagined this moment so many times, but my fantasies don’t come close to the reality.” He speaks into my wet skin. It’s not the first time he’s said it, and the reverence in his voice each time makes me believe it’s true.
He cups one of my heavy breasts in his large palm and runs his thumb over my sensitive skin as his mouth explores. He lays kisses on my soft stomach. The stomach I used to be self-conscious about, not being perfectly flat. But the way Ryan worships every inch of me leaves no room for thoughts about my body. Only how good it all feels.
He continues his descent, kissing and nipping at the skin above the waistband of my jeans. “Can I take these off?” He pinches the denim fabric.
“Yes.”
I lift my hips and shimmy, helping him to get them off. In one quick motion, he pulls down my underwear and pants, leaving me completely exposed. The fact that he’s still fully dressed in his gameday suit, sans jacket, somehow makes it hotter.
“Can I taste you?”
