Page 94 of Forbidden Lyrics

“Gibbs––”

“I don’t want to rush you, Dovey.”

“If we had sex right now, would it mean something to you, Gibson? Would I mean something to you? You said in the alley at work that our last…moment…meant something. Would this be any different?”

His grip tightens around my ribcage. “No, Dove. It wouldn’t be any different.”

“Then let me give this to you.”

Conflicted, his jaw tightens. “Dove––”

“I’m sure, Gibson. Even though you can’t commit to me. Even though you think you’re only the bard in this story, you’re special to me. You mean something to me. And when we sing together, I feel connected to you in a way that I never imagined.”

He hesitates, that same pained expression etched into his features as his gaze bounces around my face, searching for my sincerity.

He chokes out, “So do I, Dovey.”

“Then you know that if a simple song was able to build that connection emotionally, making love”––I shake my head and correct myself––“having sex would hopefully build a similar connection physically. Wouldn’t it?”

“Dove––”

“I want to feel that with you.”

“Dove––”

“Stop arguing,” I beg, my voice laced with amusement, and embarrassment, and every other emotion in between.

Who would’ve thought I’d have to beg to get rid of this stupid V-card?

“You’re sure?” he asks, carefully.

“Positive.”

“If you change your mind––”

“I won’t change my mind, Gibbs.”

“But if you do––”

“I’ll tell you, and we’ll stop.”

He tucks a few strands of hair behind my ear, still at war with himself.

“Gibson, I’m fine. I want this––”

“Promise you won’t regret me in the morning,” he orders, that same familiar vulnerability making my stomach clench. With anticipation. Affection. And a trust that’s so deep it almost hurts.

I lick my lips, leaning in for another kiss. This one is softer. Slower. But just as passionate.

He groans as I pull away and whisper, “I promise.”

“Okay.”

With one swift movement, he grabs the collar of his shirt, yanks it over his head, and tosses it on top of his guitar before he’s on me. Hands. Lips. Teeth. He’s everywhere. And I soak it up, grinding against him as that same familiar need builds inside of me until I can’t even think straight. My shirt joins his a few minutes later, followed by my bra, before he palms my breasts, squeezing them roughly, which only spurs me on.

“You sure know how to work a girl up,” I tease, my nerves getting the best of me as his mouth trails down my neck, and he takes a nipple into his mouth.

He swirls the tiny bud with his tongue before sucking harder. And it feels so good. I throw my head back and moan, tangling my fingers in his hair to keep him in place.

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