I nod, my hands drifting down her hair and her back. “Almost as much as I like when you give me what I want.”
She laughs. “And what do you want?”
More, I almost say. More than fleeting touch and taste, because mere fragments and edges of her body can’t sustain me anymore. I want to see her, all of her, spread out on my bed, bathed in firelight as I learn every corner of her. But I don’t want her to feel pressured. I want her to feel safe. I want to show her I can wait.
“Maybe I should tell you what I want first?” she says softly.
I nod.
Her eyes hold mine. Her hands settle on my shoulders. A soft smile lifts her mouth. “I want you to take me to your bed.”
Oh God. My body’s taut as a string, one touch away from snapping. “You’re sure?”
She nods quickly, a blush creeping up her cheeks. “I’m sure. I’m ready.”
I reach for an oversized towel as I stand and hold it up, averting my gaze.
She steps out of the tub and raises her arms as she leans into the towel’s edge. Then, on a laugh, she spins, rolling herself up in it like a burrito.
Kate stands in front of me, water beading her freckled skin, her hair wet and long, draping down her waist. I watch her do this sensible task, reach for a new towel, wrap it around her hair, and wring it dry as she smiles up at me.
I love you, I think, watching her. I want this every day for the rest of my life.
Kate breaks me from my trance, setting a hand on my chest, guiding me out of the bathroom, until the backs of my knees connect with my bed and I drop to the mattress.
Standing in the bracket of my legs, bathed in firelight, she reaches for the towel’s tucked-in edge and undoes it, letting it flutter to the ground.
My heart stops. Thank God, for only just a moment, before I’m revived, my heart beating like new, harder, urgent, as I stare at her. Glowing skin dusted with constellations of freckles on her shoulders and arms, her knees and calves. Soft, slight breasts with their rosy tips, the slight taper of her waist, the flare of her hips, the long stretch of her legs, wiggling at the knees.
“Say something,” she whispers.
I shake my head, setting my hands on her hips, drawing her close. I press a kiss to her heart and set my head there. “No words do your loveliness justice.”
Her hand settles in my hair, stroking gently. “That’s a sweet thing to say.”
“It’s a true thing to say,” I tell her.
“Do you think . . . you could be naked, too?” she asks a little unsteadily.
I pull away and stare up at her. “Now?”
She smiles, all bright teeth and deep dimples and firelit freckles. “Yes. Now.”
I reach for the back of my shirt collar instinctively, but as my hands did with hers, poised over her hair, her touch stops me. “Can I?” she asks.
Heat rushes through me as I stare up at her. “Yes.”
Stepping closer, Kate reaches for my shirt at the hem and lifts it up my chest, over my head. Her hands drift around my shoulders, down my arms. “You’re so . . . solid.”
I laugh quietly, then stand as she reaches for my buckle and undoes it, then unbuttons my jeans. “Solid?” I ask.
She nods. “You feel like . . . one time, I was in Australia, and these winds came out of nowhere, so violent, I swore they were going to rip me off the earth and launch me right into space. I panicked, wrapped myself around a tree that was just as thick as my arms could reach, so steady and solid, and I clung to it until the wind died. That’s . . . you.” She smiles up at me, her touch gently sifting through my hair. “My tree in the storm.”
My hands go to her hips, as I swallow against a lump in my throat.
“Now, stop making me sentimental.” She tugs at my jeans, and I help her, shoving them down, stepping out of them, kicking them away.
Her hands settle at my boxer briefs, drifting along the waistband. I let out a slow, steadying breath.
She peers up, looking worried. “Is this okay?”
“Very.” I cup a hand around her neck, massaging it, soothing her. Then she tugs my briefs down, kneeling as she goes. She stands, eyes averted before they snap up and find mine. A wine-red blush spills up her throat and floods her cheeks.
“Now what?” she whispers.
I smile, gliding my hands along her arms, savoring how beautiful she is—soft and warm and here. “Now we lie down.”
Kate leaps onto the bed and lands like a starfish, making me laugh. I crawl onto the bed after her, arms caged over her as she smiles up at me, beautiful and a little nervous. “You can look at me,” I tell her. “Touch me. Wherever you want.”