even as I made the apology, another nervous giggle spurted from my lips, and he looked up from between my legs, confusion tightening his brows. I took his face in my hands and pulled his lips to mine. A curious look passed over his features before I touched my tongue to his and answered any question he might have had about my enjoyment level. I tried to quiet my own racing mind with that kiss, too. It was just a small setback. Nothing that would ruin the night. This wasn’t irreparable. I could salvage this; I wanted to. I just needed to get out of my own damn way and enjoy the release. I’d been so close before, closer than I’d ever gotten, even just by myself.
I sat up, and he took me into his lap so I straddled his erection. Circling my hips over his, he groaned, throwing his head back and offering his neck to me. I ran my tongue from the hollow point at the apex of his sternum, up to his jaw, nibbling at the bit of stubble piercing through. Pinching my chin, he matched my stare, and for all of a second, we did nothing but look at each other. Hold each other. His eyes were savagely hot, and the way he searched my face and brushed his thumb over my swollen, wet bottom lip was achingly tender, like I was something to be cherished.
Gently, he freed my hair from my ponytail, brushing his fingers through the strands. His eyes explored my face, and he traced the muscles up and down my back. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured, more to himself than to me.
My breath expanded in my lungs, my muscles clenching with his declaration. For the first time with anyone, I honestly believed him when he said it. It wasn’t a way of getting in my pants, or some phrase he was repeating from a movie. But even more important? The way Tate looked at me, I felt beautiful.
“Say it in French,” I whispered.
His grin widened. “You know how to say that in French.”
I nodded, taking his earlobe into my mouth. I whispered in French, “But I want to hear you say it.”
His cock twitched against me, and he groaned the sentence. “Vous êtes très belle.”
“So formal,” I said and kissed him again, nibbling on that full bottom lip I loved to watch speak to me in French. “Merci,” I murmured against his mouth.
He groaned, falling back onto his bed with me on top. Me…in charge. It was scary, this new spark of electricity I experienced with him. But it was also empowering and thrilling in a way that I wasn’t quite sure how to handle. I felt like I was on the verge of striking a match near a gas leak. It might be fine. But it might also explode into a fiery mess.
His dick stood erect, and I swallowed hard, taking in his body. I was staring, but I didn’t care. He was something to stare at. Despite the nervousness that bounced in my belly, I found myself actually wanting to taste him. I could do this. And not just because it felt like I should, or it was my turn to reciprocate, but the thought of taking him into my mouth made me ache between my legs in the best possible way.
I kissed my way down his ridiculously defined stomach. I mean, seriously…the only other time a six-pack has ever touched my lips was that one awful night Reagan convinced me to try PBR. And Tate’s six-pack was way tastier than any beer I’d ever had. I ran my tongue along the dips and curves, reaching the springy hair at the base.
With a sharp breath, I took him into my mouth, circling my tongue around his smooth tip. It felt…incredible. And sexy. He hissed through clenched teeth and dragged a thumb across my bottom lip as I withdrew him from my mouth. I squeezed my thighs together, tightening my muscles against the ache that throbbed there.
“Holy shit, Shelby.” His head fell back on the pillow, and he threw an arm across his eyes with the moan. A smile curved on my lips just before I took him once again into my mouth, this time dragging my teeth gently down his shaft. “Oh my God.” His hands dove into my hair. Before I realized what was happening, his right hand brushed back the left side of my bangs, pulling my hair