Page 203 of Falling Backwards
He makes it easy to do.Each exchanged kiss and breath, each small sound, each way he finds to move the tiniest bit closer to me tells me he wants to steal me away from everything that isn’t us as much asIwant him to.
Knowing he’s with me on it brings a satisfaction and a sweetness and agreedthat I don’t know how to handle.Shyness wisps through me as I duck my face out of our kisses and skip my own kisses down to his neck, but the shyness is woven with that confidence I started feeling recently, and it heightens when Luke speaks my name in the breathiest moan I’ve ever heard.
He sounds that way because of me.
What a dizzying, delicious truth.
That truth heightens, too, as the new press of our hips together gives away that he’s stiffening at the front of his night pants.
A whispery web of heat spreads through me from that point of contact.
I feel breathless as my kisses wander down his throat to his collarbone.I love having his skin under my lips, though I wish the angle was more…more….
Before I can finish the thought, he’s rolled me halfway onto my back.I take a soft breath against the hollow of his throat from this paused glimpse of his weight on me and I catch him doing the same near my ear.Then I take full advantage of being able to touch my tongue to this place on him and kiss it more ardently, which has him groaning and moving again—I shift with him until he’s fully above me, his body pressed warmly and strongly and solidly between my thighs, his arms bracketing my head, his chest close over mine.
And this is not a paused glimpse of his weight on me.This is purposeful and entire.
It sets the most welcome hum into every inch of me.
It hits me that this is so much more intimate than anything I’ve….
Because he’s Luke.Because this is us.This is a clothed version of what I was thinking about the other day, when I quietly knew being with him would feel better than it ever felt with anyone else.
I taste the dip in his collarbone only for one more slow moment before his fingers go under my chin and lift it, slanting my face up enough that it bumps his.Just like that, I, too, am aching for the kiss he clearly wants, and our search for it lands us on jaws and at the corners of mouths, but we find our way with the next press, which morphs into lips smoothly parting, tongues touching, shared moans coming on shared breaths.His hand unfolds up along the side of my face, fitting to it.
He.
Kisses me.
So.
Hotly.
That it overwhelms me, overwhelms my body—my lungs, all the little hairs on me, my ability to keep a hold on myself.
I grip one of his shoulders and the back of his shirt, kiss him back with something that feels sweet and desperate at once.Something that takes over my hips, too, and has them moving up on his.I damn near whimper as he rocks down against me in return.
The low sound of liking he makes into my mouth issinful.My fingers dig into him from the shock of that, of how he feels better and better with me with each passing moment.
His fingertips tremble up to my scarred eyebrow, back down my cheek and neck scar and collarbone….They only barely graze my breast through my shirt and bralette, but I’m feeling everything from him so sharply that I gasp into arching my back.
“Please,” huffs out of me, weak yet unstoppable, before I’ve even actively thought of just how badly I….
His hand is under the hem of my shirt just as fast.His breath shudders over my jaw as he goes upwards over my stomach and waist—but now it’sslow—God, the settle of his hand on my breast comesso slowly.I somehow love it even though I feel like I’m dying for him to touch me; once he’s well and truly doing it with a warmly heavy sound and savoring certainty, it sends my hand up from his shoulder into his hair, has my other hand clutching the back of his shirt so much more than before that I’m pulling it up some.I feel flickers of fresh shyness and of desire to pull it up like I mean it so I can take it off him, but he’d have to stop touching me and I don’t want that.
His voice moves slowly, too, over my lips, deep and throaty: “I’ll never get tired of the way you feel with me, love.”
‘Love.’
The word crashes into me like my mouth crashes into his, like his crashes back against mine.
‘Love.’
Another cascade of moments sweeps me away.Another blend of our movements together.
He’s an assault on my sense of touch in the best way.How he kisses me, how the squeeze of his strong hand feels on my soft flesh, how his body ebbs and flows with mine like there aren’t clothes between us, how his hardness keeps hitting the exact right place on me for tiny waves of sparks to move all throughout me.
Except with one slight shift of him over me, they suddenly aren’t tiny at all—all of a sudden, there’s a familiar hot swell awakening right there at the center of me where our steady pressing contact is, and—
