My feet did something weird, arching and pointing uncontrollably, almost like they’d been tickled, the muscles of my legs and stomach flexing. I sucked in an involuntary breath just as his large hand stopped at my hip, his thumb drawing a firm line over my thin cotton pajama pants from my lower abdomen straight to my clitoris.
Well, that escalated quickly.
I gasped, my eyes closing, my head hitting the wall at my back, my hands fisting in the comforter on either side of me while my body dichotomously froze and melted. I couldn’t breathe.
I can’t breathe.
“I can feel you,” he said, his voice still a growl as the pad of his thumb circled me through the two layers of fabric, pressing, searching. “You’re so wet. Is that for me?”
“As the, uh.” As the prophesy foretold. “And thus, I die,” I choked out instead and tried to shrug, making a joke of it, because—OMFG—I was ten seconds from orgasming. Honestly and truly. My lungs were on fire, my body clenching around emptiness, my skin stretched too thin.
And I was mortified.
He’d barely touched me. There’d been no buildup. One small stroke followed by two barely there circles, and my body had gone zero to the speed of light.
I can’t breathe.
Some abrupt instinct had me clawing at his wrist, my hand fisting around his thumb to stop the efficient circles. I was wound too tight, it—everything—felt overwhelming.
“I—I’m—”
“Shh. Let me.” His lips were on my neck, making me shiver, and he pried my fumbling hands away, threading our fingers together.
And then he was guiding me to my back.
And then I was lying down.
And then he was there, over me.
I experienced a split second of pure terror, of fear, my mind telling me that someone was above me, covering me, holding me down, and I couldn’t move. Then Abram came into focus, settling himself between my open legs. Abram’s scent filled my lungs. Abram’s hips spread me wider. Abram’s mouth sucked at my neck, eliciting more shivers, and my terror was nearly eclipsed by the surfacing wonder of seduction.
Abram rolled his pelvis, and the hard length his erection pressed right where I needed. Fear diminished, waned, but didn’t completely extinguish. It became a quiet whisper instead of a clamorous shriek, inexplicably amplifying my senses without overwhelming them.
I can’t breathe.
But I did breathe. I inhaled him, the Abram fragrance that both calmed and excited me. It spread like a velvety cloud, invading and liquifying each clandestine corner and hidden space and secret desire. It communicated a history without words: security and safety, longing and need.