He said it so earnestly that she believed him, even when his hands moved with the kind of confidence that made her chest ache.
Almost naturally, he held her wrists to her sides while his lips and tongue explored the contours of her breast, lingering over the tight pink nipples. She freed a hand to hold him in place as his tongue circled it slowly before pushing him back and sitting on his lap.
Byron's startled expression was almost comical, and he sputtered, “Always the boss, eh?" with a smile, but then she is kissing him back and pressing against him in a way that drove him crazy.
Soon their clothes lay discarded on the side, her bra on the lamp, his boxers on the floor, and he pressed her into the mattress, his hair-roughened chest brushing her nipples as his hips met hers in a frantic thrust.
When it came time, he reached for his wallet, still half tucked in the back pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a small silver square, his fingers practised as he tore the edge with his teeth and rolled the condom on, groaning as he did.
Ana looked away, and something in her chest curled.
He noticed.
His brow furrowed. "What is it?"
She shook her head, then sighed. "You're... good at this."
Byron blinked, suddenly still. "That bother you?"
"A little."
He was quiet for a beat. Then, gently, "It's never been like this. I have wanted you for so long."
Ana gave him a small, uncertain look.
He leaned forward again, touching her face like she might fade. "I swear, Ana. You're different."
She believed him. Jealousy got pushed aside as she felt him pushing into the moist softness between her legs. There was the lingering ache of arriving late to something she wished she'd had first.
But then he kissed her again, slower now, and everything else quieted.
He pushed inside with a frantic thrust. She tried to hold in the squeak of surprised pain. But he heard and kissed her while he moved slowly within her. His eyes were intensely focused on her, the hazel eaten up by the black. She had to shut her eyes when it got to be too much. It was over too quickly, his groans floating through the air while she felt...unfinished. Her body was too tense, her thoughts too tangled. He noticed again and shifted his weight slightly without disengaging. He pressed his thumb just right, murmured something low and ridiculous in her ear then she was climbing before everything clenched ...and the pulses overcame her.
When it finally happened, it felt like falling. And he held her through every second of it.
After, she lay curled against him, one leg slung over his hip, her cheek resting on his shoulder. His heart thumped steady beneath her ear.
"Still nervous?" he asked.
She smiled faintly. "Less now."
They lay in the golden spill of her bedside lamp. Byron leaned back on her pillows, eyes on her like she was a priceless painting.
Ana's head rested on his chest, the rise and fall of his breathing lulling her toward sleep. Her bare leg tangled with the sheets, her arm slung across his stomach. The room smelled like coconut shampoo and the faded lemon of his aftershave.
Byron's fingers traced light circles across her naked back.
"You're beautiful, Bartolini," he whispered, his voice barely audible in the hush. "You've no fucking idea."
She stirred slightly, not quite awake, but her mouth curved into a sleepy smile.
He kissed her temple. "I adore you, y'know."
A soft sigh left her lips.
Byron lay still, memorising the moment. The softness of her skin against his. The way her bracelet glinted where it had slipped down her wrist. The faint line of a smile still lingered as her breathing slowed into a steady rhythm.
She was asleep before he moved.