Page 93 of Need You to Choose Me

Wetting my dry lips, I feel my throat bob under the harsh swallow of air I collect before the admission I’d harbored for a long ass time. “I need somebody to give me a chance that I can’t always give myself. I need…you.”

Her eyes widen as if she’s not expecting that. They soften, the orbs turning glassy as her thumb brushes my lower lip. “Weekends, then,” she says, smiling gently at me.

I put my hand on top of hers. “Weekends.”

We stare at one another for a moment before I dip down and press my mouth lightly against hers. It’s supposed to be quick, chaste. Nothing that pressures her into something more. But her hand moves away from my face and toward my shoulder, curling her fingers around my collarbone and returning the kiss with more heat.

A subtle moan opens her mouth up to me, urging me to get a taste. But once my tongue enters her mouth, it’s like a fire consumes us. Show forgotten, we get lost in each other’s domineering back-and-forth. Suddenly, my shirt is being lifted, and discarded somewhere on the floor, followed quickly by hers. I make quick work to unclasp her bra until that joins the clothes scattered on the ground.

The pads of my thumbs brush against the pebbled buds, making her shudder and drop her head back. “Alex,” she breathes.

I grin, knowing how sensitive her nipples are.

My mouth dips down and covers one while I play with the other, her chest arching forward as she releases a sharp breath. I graze my teeth and tongue along each breast while pinching and caressing the other until another drawn-out moan escapes her. Dick twitching at the sound, I repeat the movements until her breathing gets sharper.

Her hands lift to my head, her fingers threading in my hair and tugging me away. “I want more,” she says, her mint eyes locking with mine. “Please.”

I press another kiss against her head before my mouth dips down and travels south toward the hem of her leggings.

As I peel them down her legs, my mouth follows the path until my lips stop at just above her covered center.

“Alex,” she chokes, putting her hands on my shoulders. “I need you.”

I press a kiss against her panties and smile against her. “I’m getting there, baby. But I need you first, and it’s been too goddamn long since I’ve done this.”

I show her exactly what I mean once her panties are peeled away too, and my mouth is covering her. And despite her fingers returning to my hair, she doesn’t try pushing me away. If anything, her legs spread wider as she gets closer to the brink, letting me have any part of her I want.

And damn do I fucking want her.

Her legs start closing around my head, her thighs shaking as I build her closer to the edge she wants to dive off of with each flick of my tongue. And I bring her there, listening to the sound she makes when she reaches her climax.

Lifting my head after her body is sated against the couch, I grin up at her. Her eyelids flutter as she looks down at me still perched between her legs, and I swear I can hear her heartbeat.

Sitting up, I help her reposition and redress.

“What about you?” she asks, when she realizes I’m not going to push for more.

I lift a shoulder. “We have all night. And I want to know if this chick really killed her husband and buried him under the fire pit or if she hired someone else to do it.”

She blinks at me in disbelief.

I lift my arm and gesture for her to curl into me. It takes her a minute, but she does, seemingly stunned.

“Not everything about us has to be sex,” I tell her when I sense the confusion, the doubt. “I’m going to prove that to you.”

Slowly, she blinks. “Prove…?” Her voice fades as she shakes her head. “What are you doing, Alex?”

I sit back on the couch, tugging her closer to me. “I’m trying to be the person you deserve.”

For the longest time, I feel her eyes plastered on me. “Hypothetically, what if I want you to be the person I deserve while also getting fucked?”

That doesn’t help my dick calm down. It twitches to life. “Well, I’d hate for you to be disappointed by making you wait. Hypothetically, of course.”

A humming noise has her settling into my side, her hand trailing over my thigh and dangerously close to the bulge under the denim.

She knows what she’s doing.

“If you want it,” I tell her, capturing her wrist in my hand. “You’ll have to beg me for it.”

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