Page 73 of Bound

Frowning, I move down the hall toward the sliver of light shining onto the carpet and push into the bedroom.

And freeze, heart squeezing.

Jackson has a pair of my pajamas in his hands. “You should get some sleep, kitty cat,” he murmurs, holding them out to me. “You’ve had a long week.”

He’s right.

We’re both tired, and it’s been an exhausting series of days.

But…it’s also the first time we’ve been alone together and upright and?—

I move to him, take the pajamas from his hand, and drop them to the foot of the bed. And then…I wrap my arms around him.

“Sweetheart?”

I kiss him, put all of that practice makes perfect of the last week to good use.

He responds in a flash of movement, groan rumbling through his chest, arms banding around my middle, tongue thrusting into my mouth, kissing me until my lungs protest, and only then does he release my mouth. He reaches for the hem of my sweater, yanking it up and over my head, tossing it to the side, allowing me to do the same to his tee, to get up close and personal with his hard chest and muscular abs and?—

I freeze for a second, not knowing where to go, what to do with all of this.

Kiss or lick, touch or bite.

I want to do it all and I want to do it all right now and?—

“Oh!” I gasp when he wraps his fingers around my wrist and tugs, sending us both toppling to the mattress.

I land on top of him with a rush of air but don’t get to catch my breath because he’s kissing me again. “Don’t feel overwhelmed, kitty cat. We stop at any time, remember?”

Sweet man.

Myman.

“I love you,” I whisper.

His eyes go wide, but this time, I kiss him.

“And I’m not overwhelmed,” I say when I manage to tear my mouth away from his. “Or not in the way you think,” I tell him when he begins to protest. “There are so many things I want to do to you, and I don’t know where to start,” I admit. “Kiss your chest, suck at your nipples, reach my hand into your pants and stroke your…” I swallow because I may be a virgin, but I’m not an idiot. I read romance novels. I’m a pro with my vibrator. But something about giving voice to all of this is…

Vulnerable.

But only for a second because then he’s flipped us, my back pressing into the mattress, his big body boxing me in. “First,” he whispers. “I love you too.”

My lungs inflate in a rush.

“I think that’s why I fought it so much.” His mouth curves. “I knew that if I gave in, I’d never have any hope of keeping you out, and after you discovered what I did”—he touches my cheek—“it was easier to be mad and push you away than delve into it.”

“You’re a good person.”

He exhales. “I think I am, but—” A shake of his head. “I’m still working on really accepting that.”

I want him to believe it down to the very marrow of his bones.

But…

Practice makes perfect.

One step at a time.

---