Page 45 of Thor

"And what about in between?" I asked. "I'm not always one or the other. Sometimes I'm just . . . me."

Thor came around the counter, sandwich-making abandoned, and sat on the stool next to mine. Our knees brushed, sending a jolt through me.

"That's the point, Mandy," he said, his voice low and earnest. "It's all you. Different facets of the same person. I don't want to put you in boxes. I want all of it—the fierce professional, the sweet Little, and every shade in between."

He spoke with such clarity, such certainty. As if he'd thought about this—about us—for a long time. I bit my lip unconsciously, absorbing his words. Thor's eyes tracked the movement, darkening visibly. The air between us seemed to thicken.

"Mandy," he said, my name sounding different in his mouth now—rough around the edges, hungry.

"Yes?" I managed, my voice barely a whisper.

Thor's large hand came up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing along my lower lip. The touch was feather-light but set my nerve endings on fire.

"I've been wanting to do this since I first saw you in Duke’s office," he admitted, his voice dropping to that register that made my insides melt.

His face was closer now, though I couldn't remember either of us moving. I could see the individual flecks of darker blue in his eyes, the tiny scar above his right eyebrow, the way his beard couldn't quite hide the softness of his mouth.

"I want you,” he breathed.

“I want you, too,” I replied, unable to resist.

The first touch of his lips against mine was gentle—tentative even, as if he feared I might break. His beard tickled my skin, a sensation so real and grounding that it made me gasp. Thor took advantage, deepening the kiss with a groan that seemed to start somewhere deep in his chest.

His hands framed my face like I was something precious, something to be cherished. Mine found their way to his shoulders, fingers digging into the solid muscle there, anchoring myself as the world tilted on its axis.

The tentative exploration quickly gave way to hunger. Years of longing—his for me, mine for understanding—poured out between us. His tongue swept against mine, claiming, exploring. I pressed against his broad chest, wanting closer, needing more.

Thor's hands slid from my face to my hair, tangling in the reddish strands, cradling the back of my head. The gentle tug sent shocks of pleasure down my spine. I made a small, needy sound against his mouth that seemed to break something loose in him.

In one smooth motion, he lifted me from my stool and set me on the counter, stepping between my legs. The new position put us at eye level, his broad frame caged between my thighs. His hands found my waist, spanning it easily, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts through the thin t-shirt.

"Christ, Mandy," he breathed against my lips. "You have no idea how much I need this."

I pulled back just enough to see his face. His pupils were blown wide, the blue of his eyes reduced to a thin ring. His cheeks were flushed beneath his beard, his breathing ragged. I'd done that to him—me, with my spreadsheets and secret coloring books.

"Show me," I challenged, surprising myself with my boldness.

Thor's answering smile was predatory in a way that should have frightened me but instead sent heat pooling low in my belly. He leaned in again, this time trailing his lips along my jaw, down to the sensitive spot just below my ear. I shivered as his beard scratched gently against my skin, contrasting with the softness of his lips.

"I've imagined how you'd taste," he murmured against my neck. "If your skin would be as soft as it looks." His teeth scraped lightly over my pulse point, drawing a gasp from me. "If you'd make those little sounds for me. I want to hear what my name sound like on your lips."

His hands tightened on my waist, drawing me closer to the edge of the counter until we were pressed together, my legs wrapped around his hips. Even through our clothes, I could feel how much he wanted me. The hard length of him pressed against my core, sending sparks of pleasure radiating through me.

I threaded my fingers through his hair, pulling it free from its tie. The blond strands fell around his face, softening the hard angles. I tugged gently, guiding his mouth back to mine, suddenly desperate to taste him again.

Our lips met in a clash of need—no gentleness now, just raw desire. My hands explored the broad expanse of his shoulders, the corded muscles of his back, learning him by touch. His did the same, sliding under the hem of my shirt to find bare skin.

When his calloused palms made contact with the sensitive skin of my lower back, I arched into him with a moan. Thor took advantage, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down my throat to my collarbone.

"Tell me what you want," he rasped against my skin. "Tell me what you need, baby girl."

The endearment—so casual, so perfect—broke something open inside me. All the walls I'd built, all the compartments I'd created to keep the different parts of myself separate, came crashing down. With Thor, I didn't have to choose. I could be everything, all at once.

"You," I said simply, my voice cracking with emotion. "Just you. Inside me."

His eyes, when they met mine, held understanding beyond words. He knew what I was giving him—not just my body, but my trust. The trust to see all of me and still want me.

Thor's forehead pressed against mine, our breathing syncing as we both tried to regain control. His hands slid back to safer territory, resting on my jean-clad thighs.

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