Love In Slow Motion (Love Beyond Measure #2) - E.M. Lindsey Page 0,94

him on his nipple, tongue laving, teeth grazing. His balls went tight, and it was by miracle alone he didn’t spill. “That’s okay. We have a lifetime, you know. We can do all of it.”

Those words grounded him. For a moment, he’d been wild with fear that they only had this—that it had to be something and mean something because it might not ever happen again. And Ilan might have been terrified of the future, but he cared about Fredric enough to give him this—and more. He was gifting him with time and patience, and Fredric couldn’t take it.

He grabbed Ilan by the face and kissed him, pouring everything he had into it. He groaned and bit Ilan’s full lips as Ilan’s hand moved between them. And then he knew pleasure like he had never imagined when Ilan’s cock pushed right up against his own, and a hand clamped around them both.

He breathed, he stilled, and then he exploded. His hips were moving without his mind being consciously aware of it, fucking into the circled fingers that gripped him. Ilan’s other hand was between his spread thighs, pulling Fredric’s knee up, then going down to gently roll his balls against his palm, milking him of everything he had left to give.

Fredric’s body trembled, and his chest shuddered with sobbing whimpers. The pleasure felt endless, and it was so much that for a second, he thought he might die from it. He went from having nothing to having everything, and he couldn’t take it.

Ilan was spilling before he could panic. He was thrusting against the cut of Fredric’s hip and sobbing into his neck. His hands had stopped stroking, instead gripping Fredric by the hips like if he let go, the other man might disappear into oblivion.

He found himself grazing the tips of his fingers up and down Ilan’s naked back to soothe him, feeling the ridges of his spine, feeling the defined muscles and the barely-there curve of his ribs. He felt Ilan’s breath catch, and then slowly start to even out, and his lips began to move in soft nips along Fredric’s collarbone.

Silence stretched out between them again, and the darkness—for only a second—was pressing. Then Ilan’s head lifted and warm lips met his in a kiss so tender, it made his toes curl.

“Anyone who ever spent a second not appreciating you is a fucking fool,” Ilan murmured, “but I will never be sorry that it means I get to have this with you.”

Fredric’s fingers dug into his hair, tracing a line up his scalp, coming down to brush around the shell of his ear, down his cheek to feel it lifted in a smile. He breathed, and his voice was there, waiting for him. “You’re everything I think I’ve ever wanted.” And I love you, he finished silently, because there would be a time for those words, but not yet.

This still wasn’t the end. This was barely more than the fairytale kiss, in the grand scheme of things. Ilan was still delicate, still hesitant, and Fredric was going to take his time. He was going to hold him close and love him so hard that when the words finally came, they would just be the period at the end of a long, long sentence.

“Let me clean us up,” Ilan said, and he started to push up, but Fredric gripped his waist.

He held his ground when Ilan tugged against him, and when he finally found his courage, he spoke. “Stay,” he said.

Ilan huffed a laugh. “We are filthy, and if I don’t wipe this up, you’re going to regret it.”

Fredric smiled, and he let go gently, but only to drag his palms up Ilan’s chest to rest them on his shoulders. “No, my darling. I mean…stay.”

There was a long pause, and then a breath that sounded like a soft, “Oh.”

“I want to be your first. I want to be the first person you sleep next to and wake up to in the morning, and I want to be your first breakfast after. I don’t mean forever,” he said, in case Ilan was starting to panic. “Just…for now.”

Fredric held his breath until he was kissed again, and he felt Ilan’s smile that was so big, there were teeth. “Okay,” he said, nuzzling him with several more kisses across his jaw. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

Chapter 21

Ilan slowly rose to consciousness, clinging to the last vestiges of a dream he couldn’t quite picture. It was abstract, more feeling than image, but he wanted