really anything to celebrate?”
His eyes turned soft and he opened his mouth to respond. But I wasn’t finished, so I hurriedly continued, “You accepted me. You knew me better than I knew myself,” I gave a brittle little laugh as tears filled my eyes. “You knew my heart before I did—how I needed all of you. And I’m going to be grateful to you for the rest of my life for that.”
I found myself flat on my back a second later, Z hovering over me. His eyes trailed over my face and I could feel his gaze like it was the softest touch. He braced himself on his forearm and leaned down, giving me a soft, sweet kiss, his lips brushing mine gently until I reached up and pulled him slowly down.
“More,” I whispered, dragging my hands through that sloppy hair that I loved, thinking—with naughty satisfaction—that soon it actually would be just-fucked hair.
Z’s tongue plundered my mouth. His chest pressed down on me and after I’d played with his hair, I moved my hands to trace his triceps, which were hard as stone, as were other parts of him. He slid his hand along my side for a second before he groaned and pulled himself off of me, sitting up and declaring, “Break-in outfits are not good make-out outfits. Take it off.”
He grabbed my hand and helped pull me up into a seated position. I shucked off my shirt and then stood so he could unlace my boots and help me shimmy out of my pants. Then I was in nothing but a sports bra and panties—not the sexiest because I hadn’t been expecting this date. But Z didn’t seem to mind.
“Gimme the boobies,” he commanded, yanking me down onto his lap.
“You are absolutely ruining the mood!” I scolded.
But when his lips latched onto my neck and his tongue traced designs over my pulse as his hand traveled up and down my hip, my complaints fell away and the mood returned one-hundred-fold. Z held me in his lap and kissed me for a long time, more patient than I’d ever seen him, more content to revel in the moment, to move from softly kissing my lips to sucking on my earlobe, to licking gently up the side of my neck.
I was the one who got impatient. I pushed him back slightly and turned on his lap so that I straddled him. I ground down against the hard bulge in his shorts and yanked off my sports bra.
“Z,” I whispered.
I didn’t have to say anything else. His head bent down and he kissed my right breast, his hand coming up to cup the left. They were so sensitive after his kisses that sensation immediately spiraled down from them right to my core. And when he sucked on my nipple, pinching it between his lips, I was sucked under by a whirlpool of sensation.
My eyes fluttered closed, only opening when he switched sides. But when he did, I realized what a sight we made. I saw myself in mirror after mirror and realized how wanton I looked. A naughty switch flipped on inside my brain like a neon light, buzzing with this newfound kink. I arched my back and watched Z lean forward to follow me, reveling in the sight of us together.
But I couldn’t see enough of him. I tossed my palm up and created a second ball of light because my first was not bright enough; this one I tinged blue, so that I could see every hollow and cut of Zavier’s muscles. I gently put my hands on either of his cheeks and pulled him from my breast, watching it stretch in the mirror when he didn’t want to unlatch.
So fucking hot.
“I need to see you,” I commanded.
Z leaned back and whipped his shirt off. The light sculpted his muscles perfectly and I raised my hand to increase the shadows in the room, to make the contrast in the mirrors even greater.
Z saw that my eyes were fixated on the sight of him in the mirror and he grinned. “I thought you might like this.”
“Well, you do know me better than I know myself, apparently,” I replied.
Z pulled me to my feet and then stood behind me as he shucked off his shorts and shoes. I could only catch glimpses of him in the mirror when I craned my neck. I tried to turn around, but Z’s arm wrapped around my waist and he gave a firm, “No.