Page 92 of Nice Guys Don't Kiss Like That At Christmas
"Like you can see everything."There's no clinical distance in her tone now, just raw honesty."Even the parts I'm not showing you."
I turn my face to press a kiss into her palm."Is that okay?"
She nods, a small smile playing at her lips."It's terrifying.But yes."
Her hand slides to the back of my neck, drawing me down to her.The kiss is soft, tentative.Different from our desperate collision earlier.This is a question.A beginning.
When we break apart, her fingers trace patterns on my shoulder—not random, but deliberate.Like she's memorizing the contours of my skin.
"Do you ever wonder," she murmurs, "if we're making up for lost time, or starting something completely new?"
"Both," I answer, seeing the vulnerability in her question."Every day with you feels like finding something I didn't know I'd lost."
Her smile widens, then falters slightly.Something shifts behind her eyes.
Her skin smells like vanilla cupcakes and sleep and something else that's just...her.Sweet and heady and completely undoing.I breathe it in as I press my mouth to her collarbone, her scar, then lower, feeling her heart beat beneath the skin.
And I'm already hard.
I trace her ribs with my mouth, feel the way she shudders beneath the kiss.The way her body responds even as her hands stay twisted in the sheets, clenched tight like she's bracing for something.
She's here.But not all the way.
I kiss my way to her hip, then nudge my cheek against her thigh.“Where’d you go, Foster?”
She exhales.Doesn’t open her eyes.“I’m in my head again.”
“Talk to me.”
She hesitates, then whispers, “Last time felt easy.Like it didn’t cost anything.Because it was one night.And I didn’t have to think about what came next.”
She swallows.
“This time… it feels like if I let go, there’s more to lose.”
That hits like a punch straight to the ribs.
Because she’s right.
This time isn’t just sex.It’s the in-between.The maybe.The what if.
It’s the beginning of something that could matter.
And she’s terrified.
I move slowly, deliberately, tracing soft shapes on her stomach with my fingertips.“You don’t have to put on a show for me.No expectations.No finish line.This isn’t about performance.It’s just you.With me.”
Her eyes dart toward the nightstand.
I reach for it without hesitation.Flip the switch.The soft hum of the vibrator fills the air like a promise.
“AdamPro’s still within reach,” I murmur.“Haven’t had you call tech support yet.”
She laughs.It’s small, shaky, but real.
“It’s always there.”
“Perfect.”I settle between her thighs again.“Because I want this to be for you.Your pace.Your pleasure.”
