Page 173 of Come Back to Me

With me smushed up against him, his aftershave is all I can breathe, and it overtakes everything else. He tastes ofpeppermint. His soft groans as he sweeps his tongue into my mouth trigger more notes, different ones.

This song,his song, is for me.

And I add to it.

When he explores my mouth, sliding his tongue against mine until I’m surging onto tiptoe to get even nearer, I sob with need.

He cups my elbows and raises them higher, swooping my arms over his shoulders while drawing his own around my waist, tugging me deeper into his space. It makes me realize I wasn’t as up in his business as I thought I was—I’m glad he corrected my misstep.

His tongue continues to tease me, not diving straight in and fucking my mouth but taunting me with his mastery over me. Because, yes. He has that. I’m willingly giving it to him, too. If he can do what he did before, I’ll let him do whatever he wants—he can have at it.

Still, I’m impatient.

When he teases me with gentle thrusting that has my own tongue tangling with his, desperate for him to increase the tempo, I start panting when he ignores me entirely. Instead, he kisses me like we have all the time in the universe. This leaves me with no alternative other than to spread my fingers into his hair and yank.

When he laughs, I whimper because he doesn’t stop, and that laugh has its own beat.Ifeel his puckish joy in my need for him. I’d get mad, but that would only hurt me more than it would him. Stomping off would make my annoyance known, sure, but there’s no orgasm for me at the end of that scenario.

Orgasm = my endgame.

Those flicks of his tongue turn cyclic. I sense his pattern. Feel the rhythm. My heart pounds in tune to it. The blood rushing through my veins shifts to the same beat.

I sag into him, accepting that impatience has no place here. Not when he’s the conductor. There’s no rushing a masterpiece, and that’s what we make together.

The second he feels the change in me, his pace increases and he encourages me to do the same. Rewarding me when I do it right with a soft groan.

E3.

If this is kissing, I’ve never been kissed before.

My nails drag over his skull as he steals my breath before, with soft nips, he makes a retreat.

That’s when I hear something—me.

Immediately, I flush and stop my humming.

But he rubs his nose over mine. “I like that song.”

“S-Sorry. I-I didn’t realize I was?—”

“Don’t apologize. That’soursong.”

Tingles rush through me at his acceptance, but it’s his smile that gets to me—it’s worthy of a picture.

(Maybe I can get him to photograph us both. [I want that smile captured forever on film.])

My fingers cup his cheek. “It’s weird.I’mweird.”

“I like your weird.”

“Cody, stop. It’s fine if you?—”

“Are you telling me how to feel, Tee?” He drops a kiss to the tip of my nose. “Huh?”

“N-No, but?—”

“But nothing. It’s beautiful. Just like you.”

This isn’t the moment for tears, but they’re there. At the corners of my eyes. Pricking and stinging at how perfect he is.

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