Page 86 of All Your Pucking Secrets

He groans, his eyelashes fluttering as he looks at the ceiling. “Fuck. How am I supposed to say no to you?”

“You don’t?” My tone is hopeful.

He moves his face closer to mine, crushing the tips of our noses together. “Stop me the second something doesn’t feel good to you anymore.”

I grin, satisfaction racing through me. “I will.”

He kisses me again, but then eases off, letting me control the rhythm of our kiss. I push him back onto the sofa and straddle him, but keep my lower body apart from his. No matter how lost in desire I am, I don’t think I could handle feeling his erection against my pussy.

We take our time, rediscovering each other with our mouths. I learn what makes him groan, and he breathes me in as if I’m oxygen.

I grab the hem of his shirt. “Can I take this off?”

He nods, and I undo his buttons, my fingers fumbling. He doesn’t rush me, just lies there and waits for me to finish. I push his shirt aside and run my hands down his muscular chest. There’s a tattoo just beneath his collarbone on one side and I trace it with my fingers. An eagle.

He lifts himself up and we slide his shirt off, revealing the tattooed left arm that I’d noticed but never been brave enough to study up close. He must have had the work done after he left home, because I can’t imagine his father would have been pleased about it.

Among the art, which is intricately designed and spans from his shoulder to his wrist, I make out another bird with feathers falling from its wings.

“I love this,” I breathe, but then something else catches my attention. There, on his hip, is a small tattoo of a shooting star. “Oh, Tyler. Is that…?”

22

ECHO

“This way, you’re always with me,” he whispers, pink highlighting his cheeks, as if he knows he sounds like a sap and is embarrassed but can’t seem to help it.

Adorable.

I follow the trail of the shooting star with the tip of my pointer finger and then, in an effort to distract him from his embarrassment, begin to lift my own shirt.

He stills me with one hand. “You don’t have to.”

“I know. I want to.” It scares me, but in a good way. So far, I’ve had none of the symptoms of an oncoming panic attack, just anticipation and the usual nerves of having someone see you naked for what feels like the first time.

Technically. I’ve been naked with him before, but so much has happened since then that I feel like a different person. Even if there are no scars on my body, they’re in my mind, and they make me see myself differently.

Drawing in my breath, I pull off the shirt and position it over the back of the sofa, giving myself a chance to gather my thoughts before turning back to Tyler. His eyes are darker than usual, and completely focused on my face. There isn’t even a flicker to indicate he’d rather be looking at my chest or anywhere else.

“Beautiful,” he says.

A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “You are.”

His skin is smooth over hard muscles, with a dusting of blonde hair arrowing down to his waistband. His nipples are dark, and I toy with one and then the other. Somehow, even in this vulnerable position, I trust him not to push me too far. After all, he’s already tried to stop. It’s my choice to keep going.

I bite my lower lip, considering what to do next. I take a moment to appreciate that I had enough forethought to wear the nicest bra I own, although it’s nothing fancy. For some reason, even though I know I’m physically safe, I don’t want to take the bra off yet. It’s a layer of protection.

“How far do you want to go?” he asks.

“I want to come.” The words are out of my mouth before I have time for second thoughts.

His eyebrows climb up his face. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” It may be impulsive, but I’m not backing out.

He cocks his head. “I have an idea.”

“Tell me.”

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