Page 98 of The Marriage Narrative
“Has anyone else walked through it lately?”
He exhaled a short laugh. “No. I don’t want anyone else.”
“You should.” She shook her head. “You’re allowed.”
“And so are you,” he said matter-of-factly.
A deep breath in, and she lifted her gaze to meet his.
The night she kissed him in the bungalow felt like it happened a thousand years ago. She remembered how tight her skin felt and the heat clawing at her from the inside out. Every sensation burned unevenly before sputtering out into tears.
Tonight was different.
In his room, she kneeled on top of his bed. Her patience lasted long enough for him to take off his shirt—she slipped a finger through his belt loops to bring him closer and ran her fingertips along his soft skin just above the waistband. All the way around and down to the front to unbutton his jeans—his zipper was halfway undone when he stopped her.
“Wait, wait. Slow down.”
“Why?” Couldn’t he tell howdesperateshe was?
It’d been so long since she’d wanted to do this with anyone. Experimenting when she was young for no reason other than to do it hadn’t led anywhere. She’d had zero interest in sharing her body because no one had been worth the time and trust. No one had sparked her imagination in seeing theirs in years.
“Always so impatient.” His hands slid up her thighs, bunching her nightgown as they went. “I need to see you.” The desperate rasp in his voice made her shiver. She let him go long enough to undress her.
“Tell me what you like,” she murmured against his lips.
“With you?” He dipped his head and tender pain shot across her collarbone a moment later. “Everything.”
She grabbed his face, purposefully pressing her fingers into his cheeks. “I want you to tell me what you like.”
“No. Figure it out on your own.” Her grinning devil had returned, and she laughed with him. He laid her down gently onthe bed and she focused on the sweet ache tensing wherever he touched. His tongue on her neck. His teeth on her breasts. When he reverently kissed all eight of her birthmarks.
But the way Jordan treated her like a delicacy to be savored changed her life. She saw the light. She was a converted woman praying with her hands pulling on his hair as he devoured her. His tongue was so good, so talented it turned her into a panting, quivering mess.
“Ten.” She sighed, moaned, and sighed again.“Ten.”
Jordan carefully settled his weight on top of her, forearms on either side of her head, and she groaned. She’d used a weighted blanket once and loved the feeling. His body was a million times more satisfying.
“Finally.”He kissed her chin and then captured her mouth.
Being with Jordan made her feel soeager. A passionate sense of wonder, so aggressive it left her gasping from simply thinking about all the things she wanted to do with him. Starting with memorizing every inch of his body and quizzing him on hers one command at a time.
“Write your name with your fingertip where I’m most ticklish.”
“Kiss me somewhere guaranteed to make me gasp.”
“Bite me where I’m most sensitive.”
Sex had been one of those things she’d learned to live without. She was wholeheartedly not interested in dating or one-night stands with strangers. It never even crossed her mind to have sex with a friend.
But she’d conflated never thinking about it with not wanting it.
Because sex with Jordan? The utter delight of his body and her body, moving together in perfect rhythm. The way he felt inside her, how full and warm and overwhelming. Hearing his breath, his moans, his husky, urgent pleas and knowing that shedid that to him. That she was capable of making him feel just as desperate and passionate as she was.
There was truly nothing like it.
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