Dear Life(75)

I don’t want her to regret it in the morning, causing me to pause.

“Are you sure?” Even though I’m itching to explore Hollyn’s body, I’m conscious of the trauma she’s been through. I would be the first man she’s been intimate with since her husband died, so I don’t want to be insensitive and capitalize on a weak moment of hers.

Looking away for a second, she bites the inside of her cheek, contemplating her decision. Right there, the uncertainty in her decision, causes me to back down.

“It’s all right.” I step in, linking our hands together. Lovingly, I kiss the inside of her wrist and say, “We can just go to sleep.”

I attempt to pull her toward the bed but she resists. “I don’t want to go to sleep.”

“Hollyn—”

“No, don’t analyze this. Just let me be in the moment, let me explore these feelings I’m having.”

Her eyes plead with me, begging to listen to her rather than follow the protective instinct I feel toward her.

“Please . . .”

Fuck me. Those lips, those eyes, the way she’s squeezing my hand. How can I say no to that? I want to be the chivalrous knight she needs, helping her through these new stages in her life by guiding her, but I also want to taste her, every fucking inch of her.

Again, I’m weighing the options between my selfishness and what I think is good for her, but before I can voice my concerns one more time, she’s pushing me down on the bed and crawling on top of me, her legs straddling my torso.

My arms fly out to the side, her hands find the hem of my shirt and drag it up my stomach, exposing the hard work I’ve put in at the gym. Glancing up at me, there is lust in her eyes as her fingers dance with my six-pack, raising awareness in my aching cock. Scratch awareness. Just raising my aching cock.

It’s hard to stop, to slow myself down, but with Hollyn’s panty-clad ass resting on top of my lap, I know she can feel me hardening under her. There is no hiding it, especially with her fingers smoothing over my muscles, finding the underside of my pecs, brushing them lightly until her nails scrape along my nipples.

And fuck, that feels so damn good.

“Christ,” I mutter.

Every part of my body wants to flip her onto the bed, her back against the mattress, her legs spread, my body perfectly aligned with her, but I refrain. This isn’t about my need to be barbaric, almost raw with the woman. This is about giving her the reins in taking the next step in her life, allowing her to prove her existence for today.

Lifting up only briefly, I aid in her taking my shirt off, only for her to toss it to the side and take in my naked chest. Her hands fall to my shoulders, grazing my biceps, testing their width, their strength, until she brings her hands to my forearms and then to my fingers where she guides them to the hem of her shirt. I’m getting a great view of her thighs from how the shirt has ridden up on her, and judging from the need I can sense, I’m about to get another great view. A view I’ve been dying to see.

I don’t jump forward. I don’t rip the damn thing off like I want to. I wait, patiently as she lets my fingers dance with the fabric. She seems unsure, indecisive about her next move. From the shift in her eyes, it’s obvious she’s giving herself a pep talk. If only I could read that pretty little head of hers.

Is she nervous?

Does she want to do this with someone else?

Is she thinking of Eric. . .

After a few minutes, she startles me by jumping in, just like she said she was going to do. Instead of letting me help her, she disrobes herself in one swift movement, exposing her bare breasts into the moonlit night.

Christ. So perfect. Small, perky, just an ideal little handful. I could spend hours with her in this exact position, me starring up at her, taking in ever little inch of her skin.

Sensually, lust now reentering her eyes, she reaches up to her head, undoes the bun her hair was tied in, and lets the strands cascade down her shoulders in a wave of red. Hell, if it’s not the most seductive thing I’ve ever seen, the silky curtain framing her beautiful features.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Hollyn.” The words slip out naturally because the statement couldn’t be more true. This isn’t about me trying to impress her; this isn’t about a quick and dirty fuck. This is about the connection we’ve made over the past two months. This is about the undeniable force that has brought us together to not only to help one another, but to help heal.

“It’s been a long time, Jace,” she admits, leaning forward, her forearms on the side of my head, her breasts brushing against my bare chest. The feeling is so sensual—so damn erotic—that I have to take a few deep breaths, willing myself to settle, to let her take control.

“I know, babe.” I’m gentle, sincere, careful with every word that comes out of my mouth. “You’re in charge. I won’t do anything unless you initiate it.”

“What if I want you to take charge?”

I shake my head. “No, Hollyn. This is your show. You lead me. I don’t want to overstep.”

Growing even more serious, she pins me with her gaze. “And I don’t want you to treat me like porcelain. I’m broken, Jace. You’re broken. Heal both of us. Take control and make us feel again. Make us know what it’s like to live again, at least for a few moments in time.”

“Hollyn, you don’t know how hard it is right now for me to hold back.”