Page 35 of Come Home to Me

Lowers his gaze to my lips and I study the fan of his dark eyelashes through his glasses. They swoop against his cheek, long and thick and almost feminine in their beauty. When his lips touch mine, he’s gentle. As if he’s holding back. The avalanche of passion from the elevator missing from his kiss. I grip his arms and pull him to me, eager for more, but he only draws away.

“I want to do this right.” His lips brush mine as he speaks, igniting a flurry of butterflies in my stomach. “I want to go slow. To worship this body the way it was designed to be worshipped.” He runs a thumb along my bottom lip and I suck it into my mouth, my gaze crashing into his as heat ignites behind his eyes.

Hands explore bodies.

Clothing falls to the floor.

Time and space lose all meaning as sweat gathers along my temples, my throat growing raw as my voice wails forth my passion. Frank uses his hands, his mouth, his teeth, his tongue. His touch swings from feather light to painfully rough and I float through seas of pleasure, lost to everything but sensation, comprehending nothing but him.

When he finally enters me, he grips my face in his hands, his nose brushing mine, his dark eyes locked on my soft blues. I fall into him and I swear his soul finds mine, the edges joining, the two of us twining, entangling. I lose sight of where he starts and where I begin and my heart calls to his while my lungs capture his scent.

Sweat drips from his temple.

He whispers my name.

I shatter into a million pieces and he puts me back together again.

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