Page 64 of No Strings Attached
I THINK I LOVE YOU
AMIRA
Imight regret this.
But everything in my gut says that Henson is telling the truth.
What I saw at the party was real—but so is this. So ishe.
And sometimes, your gut knows things your head hasn’t caught up to yet, and mine is not screamingrun.It’s whisperingtry.
Maybe this is what it means to take a chance. To allow yourself to be seen, and risk the fall.
“You can’t discover new oceans unless you have the courage to lose sight of the shore.”
I don’t know who said that. Some quote I read on a calendar once or saw etched into a notebook at a coffee shop that stuck.
I’ve spent so long keeping my feet planted on dry land, and now Henson is here, standing in the middle of the storm, holding out his hand and asking me to jump into the unknown with him.
So I do.
I take a breath, rest my forehead against his chest, and let myself leanin. “I believe you.”
“You do?” A note of hope in his voice.
I nod. “I do.”
His arms tighten around me and the storm quiets.
The door clicks softly behind us as he walks me backward and further into the cottage.
Henson kisses me again. “Happy New Year, Mira,” he whispers against my lips.
I kiss him back, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt as he backs me slowly toward the couch.
“You still mad at me?”
“Undecided,” I breathe out as he trails kisses along my jaw.
“Then I guess I’ve got some convincing to do.”
My back meets the couch. He slides his hands down the curve of my hips. “Turn around for me, Temptress.”
The rasp in his voice shoots a shiver down my spine. I obey, heart thudding as his fingers find the zipper of my gown and slowly draw it down.
The dress loosens, cool air kissing my skin, and then his lips replace it, pressing softly at the base of my neck.
Every inch of me tingles as Henson moves lower, his hands gripping my hips, thumbs brushing bare skin.
He drops to his knees and a gasp escapes my lips when his fingers slide under the fabric and grab hold of my thong. With one quick snap, the lace gives way, and he slips the fabric free.
I hear him inhale.
“Jesus, Mira,” he murmurs like a prayer. “You smell like everything I’ve ever wanted.”
My cheeks flush, heat crawling down my body.
He spreads my ass cheeks gently as I brace my hands on the couch, body trembling. He takes his time, kissing my thighs, running his mouth over every inch of skin, worshipping me.
