Page 61 of On the Edge

“You can touch me,” I tell him. I should be annoyed at always having to provide approval, but mostly I find it endearing. I like that he waits for consent, instead of just assuming he’s got it.

“Oh, good,” he murmurs, and immediately reaches up to thread his long fingers through my hair.

I go back to what I was doing before: leaving my fingerprints on every inch of his body. When I move so that I’m situated above him, I lean down to kiss him slow. Heat simmers between us as Henri runs the tips of his fingers down my back, the light touch trailing shivers down my spine. We kiss until I feel the first stirring of Henri getting hard against me,and then kiss some more—a bit more urgently—as I wrap a gentle hand around him. Pulling my mouth away from his in case he wants to talk, I slide my lips across the scruff of his jaw and allow him a second to decide if he wants me to stop.

“Atlas,” he says, and I remove my hand from him immediately, sliding my palm up his stomach until I can rest it on his chest.

“Henri.”

I wait, face still resting alongside his, nose brushing his ear. His hands gently cup my ribs, before ghosting over my shoulder blades. He doesn’t say anything else, but I don’t immediately go back to jacking him off. Instead, I detour back to what I know he loves—kissing.

Slow as molasses, I move down his body, smiling when he brushes his fingers through my hair. He jolts when I lick his navel, my mouth having found its way down to his belly. I laugh against him.

“Ticklish,” I muse, peeking up at him through my lashes. He teases a hand through my hair again, fingers playing with the strands.

“Apparently so,” he agrees softly.

I glance up at him again. He doesn’t sound quite right. Sitting up, so that I’m kneeling next to his hip, I brush my hand over his hip bones and up to his chest. He looks at me and I raise an eyebrow at him, watching as his cheeks flush pink.

“I am sorry,” he tells me.

“What’s wrong?” I’d noticed he wasn’t getting hard, but that doesn’t mean much where he’s concerned. Unlike me, who can pop a boner practically on command.

“Nothing is wrong,” he says quickly. “I would like for you to enjoy yourself.”

I frown at that. Not exactly the turn of phrase I was hoping for. It’s easy for me to enjoy myself having sex—I’m not worried about me. I wanthimto enjoy himself.

“Well, I don’t like that,” I muse. My hand is still on his stomach, so I give a few gentle strokes with my thumb, watching his face closely. He looks embarrassed, a little bit shy, and something else I can’t quite pinpoint

“I am sorry, Atlas,” he repeats. “But I do not think I want to do this.”

I yank my hand off him so fast, my wrist pops. He sits up, putting his face close enough to mine for me to finally figure out the expression: shame.

“You’re supposed totell methat,” I hiss, feeling unreasonably angry all of a sudden. Jesus Christ, was he just going to lie there and let me have my way with him? I open my mouth to tell him I don’t want to fuck a sex doll, but snap my jaw closed just as fast. No. I need to remember who it is I’m with right now. He’s the king of people-pleasers, but he’s also honest. I’d been hoping the latter would trump everything else.

“It is your birthday,” he says, as though this is a valid explanation. I shake my head in mute disbelief.

“You promised to tell me if you wanted to stop,” I remind him.

“I did not mind! I like it when you touch me. I wanted you to do…” He flutters his fingers in the direction of his waist, apparently unable to put into words exactly which direction things had been headed. Maybe he didn’t even know, which gives me yet another thing to worry about. Ignoring that internal voice that wants to remind me this was a mistake, I slide a little closer to Henri and put a hand on his upraised knee.

He looks at me, a pair of curls catching on his eyelashes as he blinks. Discomfort sits heavy in my stomach—I hate this sort of thing. When I do hook-ups, they’re quick and dirty and there is none of this emotional shit. I don’t have to talk. Henri smiles, apparently happy with my silent scrutiny of his face, and reaches out to trace a finger under my eye.

“I am very fond of this,” he tells me softly. “The way you are looking like you’re wearing eye makeup.”

I blow out a hard breath. That’s the problem with hook-ups, though. None of those people are Henri.God, what have I done, I think sadly, trying once more to get rid of the gloom that constantly tries to pull me under.

“Shall we—perhaps maybe we could do a little more kissing,” he asks tentatively, fingertips stroking down my neck. “If you wish.”

I snort a laugh. He’s delusional if he thinks there is ever a time when I don’t want him. I’ve never been the kind of person who would forgo an orgasm in exchange for fuckingkissing, and yet I’m happily going to agree to just that. Kissing Henri feels better than anything ever has.

“I am in so much damn trouble,” I mumble, before cutting off his reply with my lips.

Carefully, I put a hand to the center of his chest and press him back to the bed. He goes easily, automatically spreading his legs so I can fit myself against him. My dick, having softened during our intermission, begins to perk back up.You will not hump him, I tell myself firmly, as every brush of his skin against mine has my groin burning with unreleased pressure.

I slide my fingers into his hair, licking deep into his mouth like I’m trying to fuck him with my tongue. Henri, who’s always remarkably self-contained, groans so deeply inhis chest I swear I can feel it in my bones. It feels like invisible fingers plucked a guitar string inside me, my body reverberating with the echoes.

By the time we stop, I feel almost lightheaded—floaty, as though the oxygen has all been sucked out of the room. Having a difficult time thinking around how painfully hard I am, I sit back on my heels. Henri drags his forearm across his eyes, muttering in German, before sitting up and reaching for me. He pulls me in by the back of my neck, pressing his mouth to mine in an almost frantic kiss. I splay my fingers across his abdomen, close my eyes, and try to let go of control.

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