“At least it’s not Taylor Swift. I’d be worried we’re breaking up.”
“Never,” I hear myself whisper, as if I’m outside my own body. I kiss him, and say the word again, against his lips, this time as a promise. “Never.”
Brody softly groans. “I want—I want—”
“I know, honey,” I say breathlessly, pressing my pelvis to his. He’s already hard.
He groans again, hiding his face in my neck, fighting his instinct to tear off my clothes and bury himself in my body. I feel how hard he’s fighting himself, but we need to be done with this. We’re past this now. I turn my face to his ear.
“I want you to make love to me. I want you to show me how you feel about me, and I want to show you how I feel about you. With my body, and my hands, and my mouth, and my heart, I want to show you how I feel. I want
