Page 157 of The Perfect Love

Chelsea smiles brightly when she sees where we’re going. As soon as we get inside, she slowly spins around, then looks up at me with those dazzling eyes.

“Can I take you to the bookstore…”

“And buy you all the books?” I finish.

“Such a good acronym.” She leans into me and brushes her lips over mine. “I hope you know what you’re getting into.”

“I’m prepared to leave with the entire romantasy section if necessary.”

She just laughs and scampers over toward the romance section.

I swear I could live on that sound. Her happiness seeps into my bones and warms me to my core. If I could give her this happiness every second of every day, I would. She deserves all the joy in the world.

I tuck my hands in my pockets and follow her.

I’ll do everything I can to keep that smile on her face for as long as possible.

We walk through the door of Chelsea’s apartment, tension thick in the air around us.

All through our meal, we were touching. She’d slip her foot from her heels and run her toes up my leg. I’d brush my fingers over her hand, up her wrist, and trace the freckles on her arm. And then Chelsea interlaced her fingers with mine and left them like that while we ate dessert. They were the slightest touches, and yet they were powerful.

It’s clear Chelsea feels the same because the second we’ve slipped off our coats and shoes, her arms are around my neck. Her lips find mine, hands roaming, untucking my shirt from my pants so she can get to the skin underneath. I curl my fingers into her hair, tugging her closer and deepening the kiss. She drags her fingernails down my back, then caresses the same spots with her fingertips, driving me wild. Every touch fans a flame of desire that stokes and grows inside me into burning desperation.

I back her up against the wall, and she hooks her leg around mine. Then I’m rocking into her, kissing her harder, then moving down her neck and sucking her tender skin into my mouth. A little gasp slips out, and she curls her fingers into my hair.

“Trevor…” And then she lets out a sultry little moan that takes me from ready to go, all the way to ready to fall to my knees and beg.

She catches my face with her hand and lifts my chin so she can see my eyes.

“I’m ready.”

I scan her face. I always want to question it, but I’ve learned not to. She’s in charge. It’s always her choice, her decision, her in control.

“I’m yours. Be gentle with me.”

She pecks my cheek. “Only if you’re a good boy.”

Then she wraps her hand around mine and drags me down the hall.

Usually, I try to put a mental block up and taper my excitement. Because I don’t want my excitement—my goddamn need for her—to come off as pushy. But tonight, I’m staying in the moment. I think she might need that. To feel that desire from me. It might help her stay in this beautiful moment. One that’s only meant for the two of us.

“Unzip my dress?” she breathes, slowly spinning for me.

I take my time, running my fingers over the fabric as she pulls her wild waves to the side.

My fingers brush the nape of her neck as I slowly pull the zipper down. Once I get to the bottom, I slip my hands inside her dress, caressing the soft curves of her stomach, then cupping and squeezing her full breasts. She drops her head back against my shoulder as I go for her nipples, but find pasties there instead.

“Can I help you take those off?”

“Please.”

God, thatpleasealone could destroy me.

I press a kiss to her neck. “I’ll be right back.”

The heat of her gaze is on me as I walk to the bathroom, undoing the buttons of my shirt along the way. I wet a washcloth with warm water, then head back down the hall, shrugging out of my shirt as I go.

When I walk into the bedroom again, I almost trip over my own feet.

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