47. Jenson
Jenson
T ossing the clamps down, I return to my careful assessment. Briar’s nipples are enlarged, faint marks around her delicate neck from the edges of the buckle. River is murmuring to her as he cleans her up, Kai returning with another cloth and the cooling gel.
“You did so well,” I breathe. She was so perfect, so helpless.
This is an obsession I can get behind. Having her like this. As if the vulnerability of her that scares the fuck out of me outside the bedroom is one of my favorite things inside it.
Her face is turned to the side, and I lay beside her, our faces close together. Her lips so close to mine. Pink, and plump, and tempting.
And they feel so soft beneath mine.
My hand lifts to cradle her chin as my eyes close and I taste her for the first time.
How did I live without this?
It’s her. All of it is her.
I haven’t voluntarily kissed a woman in fifteen years, and I know that I’ll never touch another.
I suck gently on her lower lip, moving to the upper, my tongue nudging inside. Long, delicate kisses as I adjust to the feel of Briar’s mouth on mine.
My eyes are closed when I pull back. My whisper is shaky. “You’re it for me. I adore you in every way, Briar Rose. I’m going to show you every day for the rest of our lives.”
I’ll never let her leave . The knowledge rolls through me, but it doesn’t cause the panic that it might have, once. I watch her closed eyes.
There’s a warmth in my chest, spreading.
She makes me happy . I intend to make sure she always feels the same.
She was made for us. A cool, soft balm for our broken, jagged parts.
I kiss her again, relishing the feel of my words against her lips. “I love you.”
I feel, more than see, her lips turning up.
Her emerald eyes are open and soft, and my lips meet hers again. “There you are.”