Page 50 of Rescuing Aria
Certain.
“Yes.” No hesitation. No fear. Just quiet, blazing intent. “I want to learn what you like.”
My restraint frays another inch.
She has no idea what she’s doing to me.
And I’m going to make damn sure her first time doing this becomes something she never forgets.
I reach behind her to shut off the water. “Not here. Too cramped, too slippery.”
My voice is hoarse with restraint. I step out of the shower, grab a towel, and wrap it around her still-shivering body. The scent of her—steamed skin, warm shampoo, sex—clings to me as I take a second towel and sling it low around my hips.
“Bedroom. Now.”
THIRTEEN
Jon
Aria followsme into the bedroom, her steps small and tentative, towel clutched in front of her like armor. There’s a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes again. But it only tightens the heat coiling in my gut. That vulnerability? It wrecks me.
In the bedroom, I sit on the edge of the bed and look up at her.
“Come here.”
She hesitates for just a beat before stepping between my knees. Her lips part, uncertain. Anticipation shadows every line of her posture, but she holds my gaze, brave, trembling, mine.
“First rule,” I murmur, forcing calm into my voice. “If at any point you want to stop, you stop. No questions, no explanations.”
She nods. Some of the tension slips from her spine.
“Second rule—this isn’t a performance. I don’t want perfect. I want you. Curious. Unfiltered. Real.”
A flush rises on her cheeks. Not embarrassment. Heat.
“Third rule—tell me what you’re okay with. What you’re not. That’s non-negotiable. I want your voice as much as yourmouth.” I lift her hand and press a kiss to her palm, letting her feel the shake in my breath.
She swallows. “Okay.”
The quiet confidence in her voice sends heat rushing to my cock. I want to kiss her, want to lay her down and worship every inch of her skin—but this? Watching her choose this, choose me for this first? It’s its own kind of reverence. And I’ll be damned if I rush it.
“Where do I start?” she asks, that blush deepening.
“Here.” I guide her gently to her knees, cushioning them on the rug between my legs. I don’t strip the towel from her—yet. She’s still holding it like a shield. And as much as I want to see her bare, open, I want her comfortable more.
She kneels between my thighs, wide eyes flicking up to mine.
“Start with your hands,” I murmur. “Get used to the weight. The texture. How I react.”
Her fingers wrap around my cock—tentative, exploratory.
Fuck.
A harsh breath escapes me. “Jesus. Yeah. Just like that.”
“Like this?” she whispers, watching my face.
Her grip is too soft, but the look in her eyes is anything but.
