Chapter 18 #5
I pull him back to my mouth.
“Don’t get sweet now.”
He smiles against my lips.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
His fingertips trace slowly along my back.
I shiver.
Not cold this time.
My body presses closer before my brain votes.
Heat builds fast.
Too fast.
His mouth moves to my jaw.
Back to my lips.
I slide one hand across his bare shoulder, down the warm plane of his chest.
Kane’s breathing roughens.
So does mine.
This is no longer cuddling.
Not even remotely.
I tug at the hem of my T-shirt.
Then stop.
Kane pulls back.
His forehead rests against mine.
“Hannah.”
“I know.”
“No.”
His breathing is hard, but he doesn’t move.
“Look at me.”
I do.
Even in the dark, I can see the seriousness in his face.
“You don’t have to prove anything.”
“I’m not.”
“You don’t owe me anything because you stayed.”
“I know.”
“Or because we had a good date.”
“I know.”
“Or because—”
“Kane.”
“What?”
I touch his cheek.
“I want this.”
His eyes close for half a second.
“But.”
I swallow.
“But I don’t want to go all the way.”
His eyes open.
“Okay.”
No hesitation.
No negotiation.
“Just… far enough.”
A small smile touches his mouth.
“Define far enough.”
I laugh nervously.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Then we figure it out as we go.”
“And stop when I say?”
“We stop before you finish the word.”
The tightness in my chest releases.
I kiss him softly.
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
His hand returns to my waist.
Nothing more until I move first.
So I do.
I close the space between us.
And when Kane kisses me again, it feels different.
Hotter because I know I can stop it.
Safer because he knows that too.
I let myself want him.
Just for tonight.
Just as far as I choose.
His mouth finds the soft place beneath my ear.
Then lower.
He pushes my shirt up slowly, giving me every chance to stop him.
I don’t.
When his lips close over my nipple through the thin fabric of my bra, my back arches.
A sound I don’t recognize leaves my throat.
His mouth is hot and careful and devastating.
He peels the cup down and takes me properly, tongue circling, sucking gently, and my hands fly to the back of his head, fingers threading into his hair and holding him there.
I’ve never felt anything like this.
Not once.
Because it isn’t just physical.
It’s Kane.
It’s the way he looks at me like I’m the only thing in the room that matters.
It’s the way he waits for every yes.
He switches to the other side and I whimper, thighs pressing together without meaning to.
His hand slides down my stomach, slow, asking.
When his fingers reach the waistband of my pajama pants I freeze.
He stops instantly.
Pulls his hand back.
“I’m sorry.”
“No.” My voice is shaky. “It’s just… I’ve never been touched down there before.”
Kane groans like the words physically hurt him.
“Hannah. You’re killing me.”
“I’m honest. I can’t lie.”
He presses his forehead to mine.
Breathes hard.
Then his hand returns, slower this time, slipping beneath the waistband and into my underwear.
“Fuck, Hannah.” His voice is wrecked. “You’re so wet.”
He finds me.
Two careful fingers slide through my folds and I gasp into his mouth.
He swallows the sound and keeps going, circling my clit with the lightest pressure, learning me.
“I’ll be the first one to make you come, baby.”
The words land like a promise.
He works me open with one finger, then two, curling them just right while his thumb keeps circling.
It’s so good it borders on too much.
I bite his shoulder to keep from crying out and he makes a low, broken sound against my skin.
He doesn’t stop.
Doesn’t rush.
Just keeps giving me exactly what my body is asking for until the first orgasm hits hard enough that my thighs shake and I have to bury my face in his neck.
He works me through it, then starts again, slower, deeper, and the second one builds even faster, stealing my breath completely.
When I can think again we’re grinding against each other, his hardness pressed against my hip through his pants, the friction perfect and maddening.
I slide my hand down the front of his shorts and wrap my fingers around him.
He’s thick and hot and so hard it makes my stomach flip.
“I want to make you feel good too,” I whisper. “Tell me what to do.”
Kane’s voice is pure gravel.
“Exactly what you’re doing, baby.”
I stroke him the way he moves against me, learning the pressure that makes his breath stutter.
We kiss like we’re starving, messy and open-mouthed, while our hands keep working each other.
He comes first with a low groan against my lips, spilling over my fingers.
I follow again just from the sound of him and the way his hand never stops moving on me.
For a long time we just breathe.
Kane eventually climbs out of bed, cleans us both up with a warm washcloth, and comes back without a word.
He pulls me against his chest, one arm heavy around my waist, and presses a soft kiss to the top of my head.
I fall asleep to the steady rhythm of his heart, still wearing my glasses and my ridiculous Stranger Things shirt, completely ruined for anyone who isn’t him.
So much for the pillow wall I think, as I settle into his arms and fall asleep.